The Shouting End of Life
by Trawler
Summary: Meredith's world was turned upside down at the age of five, but still she hungers for knowledge and the desire to make a good life for herself. A NoNoWriMo 2005 project.
1. Chapter 1

**THE SHOUTING END OF LIFE**

**BOOK ONE**

**CHAPTER ONE**

'_Gunpowder, whisky, falling off the wire_

_Anything could put me in that ever after choir.' _

– _The Shouting End of Life, by the Oysterband_

" She's not going with you, and that's final!"

The voice of Benedict Corrigan rang across the small room of the hut as his wife bustled about, getting ready for her expedition.

" But, dear, it'll be educational-" Francesca was packing a variety of light weight robes in to her backpack, ideal for coping with the much hotter weather in Borneo. They were also spelled to be resistant to the high level of moisture in the air.

" It's far too dangerous," Benedict replied. " You know I didn't want Meredith brought along with us anyway. I only allowed her presence on this trip because we haven't had time to find another nanny yet."

" She doesn't need a nanny. She's very independent now."

" She's only five years old! She still needs a nanny," he said firmly.

" Nonsense," Francesca replied. " She's got a very high reading level – she's reading books they assign to first years at Hogwarts-"

" Francesca, I said no, and I meant it!" Benedict snapped, reading over a sheaf of papers. " Now if you don't mind, I'm trying to prepare for the very important business meeting that is my sole purpose for coming to such a fetid jungle!"

Sweat stood out on his brow and his dark hair hung limply around his shoulders. Francesca's mouth pursed, but she decided not to pursue the matter any further – she would simply take matters in to her own hands. Snatching up her backpack and a smaller one that lay beside it, she nodded curtly and stalked out of the hut.

She strode across the large clearing that was their base, and that was also to be the meeting place for her husband and the cartel he was currently dealing with – Petkov, Angelova and Dinev, the most powerful group of businessmen east of Europe.

" Meredith, dear, come here," Francesca commanded her daughter. A small girl was sitting cross-legged on an enormous tree stump. The edges were jagged and blackened, suggesting the tree had suffered lightning or fire damage before parting company from its base. The girl was nestled in the very centre, in the relatively undamaged heart, an ever-present book in her hands.

Looking up the girl saw her mother, and the likeness between them was sudden and striking. They both had short, curly dark hair and both wore rather fetching, snazzy pairs of glasses; both had delicate features and pale skin, though Francesca's was flushed now and shone with sweat due to the weather and the recent argument with her husband.

Meredith closed her book with a decisive snap and climbed agilely down from the gigantic tree stump, the book tucked firmly in to a pocket of her robe. Francesca looked at the girl with a surge of maternal pride; she was nearly six, but she had a reading age of a child twice her age. She was always in a book. And she was so brave, too! Not many five year olds would have dared to climb such a stump – it was nearly as tall as Benedict, and wide enough to look like a mountain to a small child. But Meredith had climbed it, and climbed it with relish, too.

The small girl ran over to her mother and gave her a brief, tight hug around the legs. Francesca ruffled her daughter's curly hair, so like her own, and smiled at her affectionately before hunkering down in front of the girl.

" Now, we're about to do something that is going to get us in to an awful lot of trouble with your father," Francesca began. Meredith's eyes lit up; if it was something that would annoy her father, then it would almost certainly be something exciting and dangerous.

" What're we gonna do, Mama?" she asked, her hand straying unconsciously down to the book in her pocket. It was _Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them_, by Newt Scamander; as they were in the known home of the Acromantula, Meredith had thought it would be a good idea to read up on them. That had taken her about five minutes, by which point she'd got bored and just carried on with the rest of the book. The place she'd marked now was a page about Tadfoal's, the young of the Hippocampus (a type of water horse). She hoped that one day she'd get to meet both types of magical creature.

Francesca winced at her daughter's bad grammar and corrected her. " That's what are we _going to_ do, darling," she replied. " Only common folk say _gonna_, and neither of us are common."

Meredith nodded solemnly, but there was a twinkle in both female's eyes.

" Now, back to the business at hand," Francesca continued. " Your father will be safely busy over the next few days with all kinds of dull and boring meetings with that foreign cartel. Whilst he's distracted, _we_ will be deep in the depths of the jungle, looking for Acromantula webs."

" Acromantula webs!" Meredith's voice was awed as her eyes opened wide with delighted shock. " Are we going to see Acromantula?"

" I'm hoping not," her mother replied. " We're only going to the very outskirts of one of their hollows. You know Borneo is their home, don't you?" Meredith nodded.

" Well, there's lots of different packs, and they're all ruled by a king or, more usually, a queen. There's even rumoured to be a pack in the Forbidden Forest at Hogwarts – I wouldn't be at all surprised if that fat oaf Hagrid had had a hand in breeding them-"

" Who's Hagrid, Mama?" Meredith broke in.

Francesca waved the question away. " Don't interrupt, dear. You'll find out who Hagrid is in the fullness of time. Now, back to the Acromantula – I once did a favour for the Padman pack, a long time ago before you were born. Because of that favour they should let me pass safely through their lands. The only trouble is, I don't remember exactly where their lands are. That's why I've hired some natives to guide us there." She gave a grim little smile. " And, if things go wrong, they'll be there to provide enough of a distraction to allow us to get away unharmed."

" What sort of distraction?" Meredith asked curiously.

" Never you mind, for now," Francesca replied. " Hopefully you'll never have to know."

Never have to know that, if they stumbled in to the wrong territory or the Padman tribe took a sudden dislike to her, that Francesca would make sure that the native guides were eaten whilst she and her daughter escaped. She'd paid them very well, with the promise of more to come, and also intimated that they would come in to possession of various different material goods that they lacked – _if_ they agreed to guide her. But her daughter didn't need to know that.

" Is it going to be dangerous?" Meredith asked.

Francesca smiled. " Almost certainly. There's all manner of creatures living in the jungle, not just the giant spiders – we need to be wary and on the look out for anything. Do you still want to come with me?" Her tone had turned serious.

Meredith nodded instantly. She'd love to see a real Acromantula! That would be one in the eye for her cousin – she would just bet that Morgana had never been to Borneo and seen real live monsters!

" Ok, let's go then! I took the liberty of packing a bag for you, darling," her mother continued as she straightened up. " Be a dear and take them over there, will you?" She pointed at the group of eight loincloth-clad natives that were huddled restlessly between two huts.

Smiling happily, Meredith picked up the two backpacks – struggling a little with their weight – and trotted over to the guides. She put them down next to the pile of other backpacks, boxes and bags.

The moment she was out of earshot, a man darted out from behind another hut. He was tall, like Benedict, with sharp, heavy features and pale blonde hair. His eyebrows, however, were dark, and they snapped together in a frown as he spoke to Francesca.

" Von't you reconsider my offer?" he pleaded in a desperate voice, heavily accented – it sounded Russian but was in fact Bulgarian. " I can give you everything you vant-"

" I have everything I vant – I mean, want," she retorted sharply. " And I'd wish you'd just stop talking to me, Andrei. I won't be anyone's mistress. You have a wife and a son – you have everything _you_ could possibly want," she finished. " You have the Krupova fortune."

" But I don't haff you," came the soft reply.

" I won't betray my husband. Now go and try and do your business with that cartel or I'll be forced to hex you." Her voice was cold and steady.

Andrei Krupova's face flushed with a powerful mixture of anger and desire.

" This isn't over-" he began.

" And I say it _is_." Francesca swept past him towards the natives, ignoring him completely now.

She gathered up her daughter and paid a last visit to her husband. She left Meredith outside the hut – the little girl noticed a man going to talk to the natives, but thought nothing of it.

" I'm going now," Francesca told Benedict. " I should be back within a few days."

Her husband waved an irritable hand at her, still poring over his business documents.

" Where's Meredith?"

" Sitting on that giant tree stump," she lied. " Oh, and Krupova is here. I didn't think you'd met him yet."

That got Benedict's attention – Krupova was his main rival in his dealings with the cartel.

" He also tried to get me to be his mistress again."

Benedict's face soured. " Do what you want," he replied. " You always do."

Francesca's face reddened. " Maybe I will!" she shot back, her voice raised. " Do you even care that I turned him down?"

" What I care is immaterial, dear. Faithfulness was never one of your strong suits."

Francesca's face twisted in to an ugly snarl. " Whatever you think, I have _never_ had an affair," she shot back.

" Never had an affair? Darling, it's unbecoming of a woman to lie. There have always been men around you, even before we were married."

" It's not my fault that men find me attractive!" she retorted furiously.

" Maybe not. But you need not encourage them."

" You're despicable," Francesca growled. " Do you even care that we have a daughter?"

" Care? Of course I care. I care that she's not a boy. Why couldn't you give me a son, Frannie?" he demanded callously.

Francesca choked back a sob and shot him a poisonous look; she turned on her heel and left the hut, her lips thinned in to an angry line. It would serve Benedict right if she did choose to have an affair with Krupova!

" Mama, what's the matter?" Meredith asked, concern in her voice as she caught sight of the expression on her mother's face.

Francesca forced herself to school her expression in to something more placid. She managed, with extreme effort, to smile.

" Nothing's the matter, darling. I just had a minor disagreement with your father." Her heart was a lead weight in her chest – Meredith was a bright child, and it would only be a few years before she picked up on the fact that all was not well between her parents. She eyed her daughter carefully. It was more than possible that she already knew.

Meredith took her mother's hand in her own in a gesture that touched Francesca. A lump in her throat, she walked over to the where the natives were still huddled between the rude huts.

" Up. Come on, up. It's time to go," she commanded firmly in their own tongue. She was fluent in over a hundred languages, both magical and non-magical.

Francesca bit back a startled expletive as Andrei Krupova lurched out of one of the nearby huts. His eyes gleamed with an inner light that made her uneasy.

" Say you'll reconsider!" he demanded in his own language, aware that Meredith was present.

" I gave you my answer and that is final!" Francesca replied, her voice shrill. She just wanted to leave now, to get away from her uncaring husband and from careless suitors!

" But I love you. I vant you to haff my children!"

" You don't love me, and you already have children! Now go away and leave me alone!"

Krupova drew himself up to his full and impressive height, eyes burning, sweat gleaming on his skin and his thick, heavy hair falling around his shoulders.

" So be it," he said eventually. " If that is your final vord. If I can't haff you, then nobody vill!"

He stormed away, muttering to himself, as Francesca shook her head.

" Why must men be so melodramatic?" she remarked softly to herself.

" Cause they're men," Meredith replied.

Francesca repressed a smile – that was the truest piece of information her daughter was ever likely to learn. Instead of voicing this, however, she corrected her grammar again.


	2. Chapter 2

CHAPTER TWO 

There was one reason why Francesca believed that she and her party could pass unharmed in the land of the Acromantula – just one reason, but a powerful one. Before she had been married to Benedict, Francesca had spent the majority of her time travelling around the world. She was a research witch, and unusually she hadn't chosen to specialise in any one topic for her research; everything about magic interested her. She'd gained Outstanding grades in all her OWL and NEWT level exams during her time at Hogwarts, and she was aware that the Ministry of Magic were expressing an interest in her; however, she wanted to get as much travel and life experience as possible before the chains of her arranged marriage closed around her. Pure must marry pure, as her mother had said; Nanny Moira was long in her grave but Francesca was still feeling the effects of her influence.

So Francesca had travelled, determined to live her life to the full. She'd learned as many languages as she could and became renowned among magical creatures as a friendly advocate. This was the reason she had come to Borneo that first time, nearly a decade ago.

Acromantula packs lived in hollows beneath the jungle floor, but they spun their webs – and caught their prey – above ground. They were ruled by one single gigantic queen; if one did not exist within the pack, they had to wait until a large female was banished from another pack. They welcomed such wandering females with open claws, as having a queen meant the survival of the pack; only the largest of females could breed, and only queens could breed other queens.

In those times when the old queen died and the pack awaited the arrival of their new ruler, a large male sometimes rose to ascension. These periods of leadership were normally brief and bloody; he would battle with other large males for the position, and then would die anyway when the new queen arrived – after a brief courtship and mating she turned on her lover and ate him.

It was in to this society that Francesca found herself. There were a few packs that swore to the Ministry of Magic – if not loyalty, then at least the promise of not eating them if they came in to their territory. The Minister for Magic had asked Francesca to escort a young female Acromantula from the hollow of one pack to the hollow of another. Leaving the Minchi pack, she had accompanied Talla to the hollow of the Padman pack. The Minchi queen hadn't wanted her daughter to leave, but Talla had been desperate to go (she felt stifled by having so many hundreds of brothers and sisters) and the Padman pack were desperate to have her – they'd been without a queen for nearly a year and a half, and leadership struggles amongst the males were destroying them.

Francesca and Talla had travelled for days across the jungle, fending off attacks from other Acromantula and even more dangerous magical creatures. They'd fought off rogue wizards, the odd hag and even a rabid troll, and made it to the Padman hollow in one piece (if a little battered). Once safely installed, Talla had made her gratitude towards the human clear, and reassured her that she would be welcome in her lands, should she choose to pass this way again.

Francesca Corrigan and her party had been travelling for a day now, and were in the process of setting up their camp for the night. This involved stringing up hammocks between the massive boles of trees; sheets of waterproof material were strung out above them, providing shelter from the pervasive rain but also allowing a breeze to pass through. Keeping fresh and dry was important in the close, wet jungle.

Various protective spells were also laid around the edges of the encampment, but Meredith didn't concern herself with those. She'd had a brief chat with her mother about them earlier on during the day, and she was rather disappointed with them – they seemed to be a fairly standard selection of defensive camping spells.

Meredith couldn't wait to be able to do magic by herself, with her own wand – but children weren't allowed to have a wand until they were eleven and started school at Hogwarts. Although there was the exciting possibility that she wouldn't be going to Hogwarts – both her parents travelled, and if they settled down for long enough she might get to go to Beauxbatons in France, or maybe Durmstrang in Bulgaria. The only other major school was Weekleys, in America, which sounded pretty good – but the American society of witches and wizards were almost like a breed apart from their European brethren. Communications existed, but they were, by and large, limited. There were other more minor schools in America, but Weekley's was chief amongst its peers.

Meredith lay in her hammock now as nightfall rapidly descended, smothering everything in pitch-black darkness. She was always surprised by just _how_ dark it was; with no harsh Muggle street lights and no soft candlelight, the dark pressed in, eager and keen. She rather liked it. It felt comforting, protective, rather like her mother's embrace.

Meredith was reading another book now – Flesh-Eating Trees of the World – and was so engrossed in the thick parchment pages that her mother had to gently shake her arm to alert her of her presence.

" Hmm? Oh, sorry Mama! I was reading. This book's brilliant! It's all about the different trees around the world that eat meat, there's at least five species in Borneo alone! Do you think we'll get to see one?"

Francesca smiled. " Not if we're lucky, dear. Come and sit in front of the fire – dinner's ready."

Meredith hopped off of her bunk and padded over to the fire. The native guides were already sat around it, chatting in soft voices as they ate and smoked odd cigarettes – they were smoking what Meredith assumed was tobacco, rolled in small green leaves. They gave off a fragrant smell.

" They smell nice," she told her mother as she sat down and opened her book again. Already her eyes were drifting back to the pages.

" They may smell nice, but they're horribly addictive," Francesca replied. " I don't want to catch you ever smoking something like that – it's illegal until you're sixteen, anyway. Smoke inhalation damages your lungs and can give you cancer." She glared at her guides, aware that they wouldn't have a clue what she was talking about as she was still speaking English for her daughter's benefit.

Meredith nodded seriously. She always listened to her mother, and if she said not to smoke, then she wouldn't smoke.

" Now, eat your dinner, child – you need to keep your strength up. You kept up with us beautifully today, but I don't want you passing out with exhaustion tomorrow." She handed the little girl a plate laden with cooked meat and vegetables.

Meredith rolled her eyes. " I won't pass out, Mama, I've got heaps of energy."

Dawn broke early in the jungle, sending soft rays of golden light streaming down through the thick canopy. The vegetation at ground level steamed gently from the night's previous heavy rainfall and the sunlight illuminated that steam, making it appear ethereal and almost alive.

Francesca was up with that first sunlight, and she chivvied the rest of her party in to moving. The native guides, never the best of chatting companions before, now fell almost completely silent; they barely exchanged a word between themselves and didn't speak to Francesca unless she spoke to them first.

" We're nearly at the outskirts of the Padman territory," she told her daughter in a quiet voice as they trudged through the jungle. " It's been years since I was here last, and I don't entirely remember where it is – which is where our lovely, chatty guides come in to play." Meredith smiled at her mother's joke. " They travel through the jungle on a daily basis, and they know the territories of all the Acromantula packs."

Meredith fell silent, but not from fear – she was excited! She'd never seen a real life Acromantula before, and today she was going to see loads!

They travelled onwards, their guides hacking at tree branches and bushes that blocked their path. As they walked, Meredith noticed that the jungle became progressively quieter, and after half an hour it was completely silent save for the gentle noise made by plant life swaying in the gentle breeze.

" Mama, why is it so quiet?" she whispered.

" It means some of the Acromantula in this territory are hunting," she whispered back. " Some of them like to spin webs and wait for their prey to come to them, but others – mostly the younger, more impetuous spiders – like to go out and actively hunt for their meal. I expect we'll see one of them very soon."

Their first sign that the Acromantula were about was the presence of thick, silvery strands of web that coated the jungle floor and hung from branches. A few minutes later they saw their first proper web; it measured about fifty feet in width and was about the same in height. Meredith looked up at it in awe – there was no spider sat at its heart at the moment, but a number of unfortunate creatures had met their end there – they were trussed up tightly in Acromantula silk. A few of the parcels still wriggled slightly, but Meredith tried to ignore them – she didn't want to know what manner of creature had got itself caught like that.

" Right, I think we've come far enough," Francesca decided, eyeing the giant web warily. She switched from English to the native's language. " We'll make a temporary camp here – I don't want to be here for long. Just long enough to get my web samples and to have a bite to eat."

The guides set up a camp, starting with a cook-fire in the middle, whilst Francesca got out her collecting equipment and set about gathering some of the sticky silken web. It was a tricky business – she was very careful not to get any of it on her skin; it would never come off and was also rumoured to burn slightly. Instead she used a pair of very long, enchanted tongs to scoop up great chunks of silk that hung from tree and bush.

A chittering noise suddenly echoed around the clearing, and everybody looked up. Meredith was sat in front of the fire, alert – for once not reading a book, every sense strained for her first encounter with the Acromantula.

The chittering noise came again and a large, furry black shape bounced in to the clearing from high above. It snatched up the nearest native guide and bit him in half.

Meredith screamed and another giant spider hurtled at them from the opposite side, snatching up another native; she ran to her mother's side and clung to her leg.

Francesca barely noticed her daughter was clinging to her, she was so angry – why were the Padman pack attacking them, by Merlin's balls? She'd been promised they could pass unharmed!

" You! Acromantula! Why do you attack us? We're friends of your Queen Talla!" she yelled, pointing her wand at one of the creatures that had just arrived. There were three now. It launched itself at another of their guides and Francesca released a Stupefy spell – a red beam of light shot out of the end of her wand and hit the creature on its flank – it screamed and turned away from the native, directing its attack now at Francesca.

" We are not Padman!" it yelled as it charged towards her. Its huge jaws were gaping, and Meredith could only stare helplessly at those massive teeth. She had a brief impression of clear liquid dripping from the fangs before the beast spoke again. Its voice was deep, male and clearly human.

" The Padman took one of our own, and you helped her, tiny human female! We are Minchi!"

A horrible look of comprehension swept across Francesca's face as she realised what had happened – her native guides had led her in to the wrong territory. She might have been able to bluff her way out of any other Acromantula grounds, but not this one – the Minchi pack hated her for taking away one of their young females.

She shot off another Stupefy spell and it hit the charging spider dead on, straight in the giant head, but the only effect it had was to produce another enraged scream.

Francesca dived out of the beast's path, dragging her daughter with her; this whole thing had gone horribly, horribly wrong! The guides had all scattered in different directions, running as fast and as hard as they could, those that hadn't run were now dead or as good as. Other spiders appeared silently in the clearing and had begun wrapping their still struggling victims in tough silk.

The mission was a failure. She had a brief thought of trying to get to her sample bottles before she left, but instantly dismissed the idea as foolish – she'd die for sure if she tried that. She and her daughter too.

Francesca held Meredith's hand very tightly now as they ran across the clearing, away from the rampaging spiders; the little girl was sobbing freely, clearly terrified.

" I'm going to use a Side-Along Apparition spell to get us out of here, darling," she panted to the girl as they ran. " When I say so, close your eyes tightly!"

But Francesca never got to say those words, or any others. One foot caught on an exposed tree root and she went flying, dragging Meredith with her; she landed with a grunt of startled surprise and made to get up again, her hand still clutching her daughter's…and that was when the male Acromantula that had been chasing her made a sudden lunge forward. It sank its heavy teeth deep into her leg; screaming in agony, her eyes wide open, she twisted her body round to face her attacker. She let go of Meredith's hand and aimed her wand – once bitten, she knew she had only minutes to live, but she had to give her daughter a chance to get away! Her only thought now was to hurt the beast that was killing her.

" Meredith, run!" she commanded, but the girl lay rooted to the spot with fear.

Francesca let off her final spell. " _Incendio_!" she howled. Instantly the Acromantula burst in to flame. Screaming in a high pitched voice that was far worse than the noise it produced when she'd hit it with the Stupefy spell, it almost jumped away from her, desperately trying to put out the flame that was consuming it alive. The giant spider failed – with one final gurgling rattle, the monster died. It's legs shrivelled and curled up as it burned.

Meredith scrambled over to her mother's body, desperate to get her moving again so that they could escape. She shook her shoulder. No movement. She shook harder, knowing that Francesca was dead – must surely be dead – but denying it with every breath of her body.

" Mama, wake up…please, mama…mummy!" she cried hoarsely, her voice distorted by tears.

She heard a sudden loud _crack_ noise from behind her, and she whirled around, wondering desperately what this new threat might be. To her surprise it was the man her mother had talked to back at the camp, the blonde man her mama had had an argument with. She staggered towards him, and he grabbed her. In her fear she didn't notice the expression on his face – he looked as if his world had just ended, but the expression was shot through with guilt as well. His eyes bore a haunted look.

Andrei Krupova swung the little girl over his shoulder. She grabbed hold of his waist, clinging for dear life as he hauled up the dead body of Francesca Corrigan and slung it over his other shoulder.

" Hush now, baby girl, vee go now," he crooned to Meredith, and his own voice was full of tears.

Meredith closed her eyes tightly, willing the nightmare to end – willing her mama to come back to life. She heard another dull _crack_ and when she opened her eyes again, they were back once more in the clearing. Krupova slid both mother and daughter to the ground, calling all the time for Benedict Corrigan.

He ran out of his hut. Cool brown eyes assessed the situation before they widened in horror; he dashed over to them.

" What the hell happened?" he demanded ferociously. " What have you done to my wife!"

" I saved your daughter's life," Krupova panted, getting his breath back. Meredith buried her face against her father's leg; he pushed her away with a certain amount of irritation. She stopped her crying long enough to give him a hurt, surprised look; sniffing, she wiped one hand across her eyes.

" The Acromantula bit her, Da," she said in a voice full of reproach. Her father chose to ignore her.

Krupova nodded. " Her guides led her false, Corrigan. In to za wrong territory!" He drew up the hem of her robe to reveal the huge, ugly puncture marks that had killed her; they could clearly see the venom that stained her veins as it travelled to her heart.

" I don't believe it," Benedict remarked softly, staring down at the body of his dead wife. There was little emotion on his face. " I just don't believe it." He gave Meredith a sharp look. " And what are you doing here? I expressly forbade your mother to take you with her! If she died to save you-" He sounded angry.

Meredith was confused, hurt and angry all at the same time – why was her daddy being so beastly towards her! Her mother was dead, lying there at his feet, and he wouldn't even cuddle her! And now he was behaving as if this were somehow her fault!

She turned and ran away, back towards her own rude hut. Her mummy was dead, and her father didn't care. Wild tears of an innocence lost streamed down her cheeks as she threw herself on her bed and sobbed.

" Meredith!" Benedict tried to call her back, but Krupova's steely grip on his arm drew his attention away from his daughter. Krupova swore at him.

" Merlin's balls, man, don't you care that your vife has just been killed? Your little girl needs you! Vhy are you horrible to her?"

Benedict drew himself up to his full, impressive height, glaring at Krupova.

" Don't ever dare to question how I act again, you arrogant Bulgarian scum. Why did you bother to save the girl? Did you think I was going to pay you for saving her worthless hide? I know your family fortunes are poor, Krupova, despite the wealthy façade you try and promote!"

Andrei Krupova's face reddened with anger, barely concealed. " I loved your vife," he snarled. " I loved her more than you. Did you ever love her, even a little bit? Or your daughter?"

" It is my sad misfortune to be saddled with a girl, and not a boy," Benedict ground out coldly.

" I tried to save them both. Both Francesca – I was too late to save her too…"

" You should have let them both die!"

" If you vere a man of honour, I vould challenge you to a duel," Krupova growled.

" But you are vithout honour. So I vill blackmail you instead."

Benedict's eyebrows shot up. " You _dare_ to think you can blackmail _me_?" he drawled out.

Krupova nodded curtly. " You von many contracts with the cartel. Petkov, Angelova and Dinev are the wealthiest businessmen in Eastern Europe. I vant those contracts…and I vant my son Alexandar to marry your daughter, to help seal the deal, vhen she is old enouff. He vill treat her far better than you vould ever treat your vife!"

" And if I refuse?" Benedict shot back.

" I tell the Minister for Magic that he is not, in fact, the father of his only precious child."

Benedict surged forward, fist outstretched to grab the front of Krupova's robe. " How the hell did you find out about that?" he snarled. He stopped himself just in time, his hand an inch from the other man's clothes. He let it drop and forced himself to take a step backwards.

" I haven't signed any contracts with the cartel yet," he said stiffly. " It's a verbal agreement. I could – maybe I could persuade them to do business with you…" He shot Krupova a sharp look. " They want products. Ingredients for potions and poisons. I know you can provide them – your land is enormous. I'm surprised you haven't sold it all off yet to get your losses back," he sneered.

Krupova didn't rise to the bait. " I can provide vhatever they need. I vant their business."

Benedict sighed. " You're going to regret this, Andrei. One day, when you're not expecting it, you'll get payback for taking my business. And my daughter! Why do you want your son to marry her? And what were you even doing out there in the jungle in the first place?"

" I vas merely collecting – ingredients," Krupova replied. There was still a faint trace of guilt on his face but Benedict wasn't interested in that at the moment. " And as to vhy I think Aleksandar should marry Meredith – it is a good choice," he continued.

" Both our families have good names." He held up his hand to forestall Benedict's scathing comment. " The…the state of my finances are not known to most of the vizarding vorld. Vhen I get your contracts I vill make money again, get my family back on an even keel. Family Krupova vill be powerful again, I swear it! Aleksandar vill marry Meredith, and two great families will join."

" But my family name von't – I mean won't – live on! My wife was pregnant," he growled. " It could have been a boy! And now she's dead, and so is he!" Finally there were tears in his eyes, but Krupova doubted they were for Francesca. Benedict had always been a selfish bastard, and he was really living up to his reputation now – ignoring his only child, even shouting at her when her mother was dead. When she'd seen her own mother killed before her very eyes!

" You can remarry. Haff more children."

" No, I can't," he growled. " I – I have a problem. I needed magical assistance to conceive both my children. I've been told they can't continue the treatment," he finished stiffly.

" Vell, haff a little heart now, Corrigan. Your vife is dead. Your daughter grieves – you should go to her, comfort her, and she vill comfort you."

" Don't tell me how to deal with my own family!" Benedict barked angrily. Francesca's dead body still lay on the ground between them. It was attracting flies; many fat black bodies were buzzing interestedly around the corpse. Benedict couldn't look at it; he could only glare at his rival.

Krupova shrugged. " Haff it your own vay. But remember our deal. Your business contract vith the cartel, and your daughter's hand in marriage to my son. I vill send you an owl vith the terms our own contract, vonce you are back in Britain. I expect you to sign it or I vill haff a little conversation vith Cornelius Fudge. You had no problems siring a child to _his _vife, did you?"

" Get out of my sight!" Benedict shouted, anger flaring on his face again. " You're worse than scum!"

Krupova had started to walk away, but he turned one final time at Benedict's words.

" No. _You_ are the scum. Your vife is dead and you ignore your only child in the time of her greatest need. You may bury your vife, but not your child."


	3. Chapter 3

BOOK TWO   
CHAPTER ONE Moving on, moving on 

_The way to your heart is never ending_

_So I'll just keep moving on_

– _Moving On, by the Oysterband_

_Six years later_

Meredith woke up from a nightmare, the same one she had had at monthly intervals ever since her mother had been killed. She didn't really remember the event now, but the nightmares kept giving her snatches of it – the Acromantula's face, the screams of the native guides. She remembered the book she'd been reading that day.

A light sheen of sweat covered her face as she slid out of bed. The silk nightgown felt clammy against her skin – she pulled it off and over her head and padded naked in to her en suite bathroom. She threw a quick glance at the grandfather clock in the corner of her bedroom; it was barely six o'clock. Her father wouldn't be up for at least two hours, and perhaps even later. He liked to have a lay in on Saturday mornings, but Meredith had been a very light sleeper even before that fateful trip to Borneo. And after that she was lucky to get six hours a night.

Her bathroom was cold and she shivered; she quite liked the cold, in moderation, but not just after she'd crawled out of a warm bed. Grumbling she got in to the walk-in shower and turned the heavy knob. Cold water shot out of the showerhead and she yelped; gritting her teeth, she folded her arms across her non-existent chest and waited until the water heated up.

When she emerged from the shower fifteen minutes later she felt much more human. She dried herself thoroughly and dressed quickly. Today's clothes were a long, dark skirt and a plain white blouse, with functional ankle boots. She towelled her hair dry; by the time she'd dressed it was half dry anyway. She grabbed her stout hairbrush and attacked the thick brown curls – they fell to her shoulders and framed her narrow face. It took her a long time to make sure her hair was free of knots and tangles. When she was done she ran her fingers through the still-damp mass, trying to get some air to it. Finally she put her glasses on, eyeing them banefully – her eyesight hadn't started to fail until she was seven, but she had to wear them all the time now. She always wondered why her eyesight was so poor – none of her family had ever had to wear glasses, even in their old age. Her cousin Morgana didn't. The other girl liked to tease her by saying her eyes were bad because she read too many books, but Meredith took that quite seriously – she _did_ read too many books, but she didn't care. Knowledge was power. Power would mean she could fulfil her dream when she finally left Hogwarts. She wanted to set up an Institute into Magical Research. To her knowledge, none currently existed, which seemed like a vast oversight to the eleven year old.

She grabbed a hasty breakfast from the still kitchen – Cook wouldn't be up until seven, so the enormous kitchen was dark and quiet. She liked it like that; she could rummage for all the food she wanted when Cook wasn't there. Now she poured some cereal and milk in to a bowl and munched it rapidly, needing to be out of the house for a while. She had to have some fresh air. She filched a few cold, left over sausages from the pantry and wolfed them down as she let herself out through the back door of her father's mansion. She took a deep lungful of cool, clean air and ran down the garden path. Casting a quick look at the sky above, she decided it would be a nice day – it was a deep, clear blue, promising warm sun. The weather was quite cool for July, and some of the weather-wizards had been predicting a harsh winter. At this time of the day, when the air around her was still crisp, Meredith was more than inclined to believe them.

The Corrigan mansion was situated in the heart of Hampshire, amongst rolling hills, swathes of green grass, farmland and small forested areas. She loved the countryside, and spent as much time there as she dared – by and large, her father ignored her, but he expected to see her at meal times and she was always punished if she didn't show up.

She paused briefly at the bottom of the garden to pick some long-stemmed daisies; working swiftly, she split the stems enough to thread another daisy through. Within a minute she'd made a delicate garland and had placed it gently around her forehead; it was a perfect size as it lodged behind her ears. The white flowers showed very brightly against her dark hair.

Her first job of the morning was to see to her pets. There was a small shed at the bottom of the expansive garden, hidden by huge, towering bushes (she'd had to try very hard to persuade their gardener to let them grow up like that; if her father didn't have to see the shed, he wouldn't be reminded of it.)

Her mother had kept all kinds of pets, but after her death Meredith's father had ordered the bulk of them to be sold, killed or abandoned. She had had to beg hard to be allowed to keep a small fraction of them. This was why she kept her rats in a sheltered shed – out of sight, out of mind.

Now she eagerly opened the door and stepped inside, closing it behind her to ward off the mild chill. She paused just inside the threshold for a moment, letting the atmosphere wash over her. It was warm in here, with a strong smell of sawdust, straw and shredded editions of The Daily Prophet; also present but milder was the smell of rat droppings. She could hear scrabbling from the huge cages, the faint sound of gnawing and squeaks, and she thought she could detect the sound of a quick, violent scrap going on in the corner of one cage.

She moved towards the cage now with purpose. She popped open the wide hatch and reached in with both hands, hauling out two furiously scrabbling, scratching buck rats. She was never afraid that they would bite her; she took a no-nonsense approach with her rats. If they bit her, they were put in small, solitary cages for a week with no other contact. They were smart – word got round quickly amongst the small community of rodents, and she hadn't been bitten for years. She did, however, pick up a wide variety of scratches, but she never punished her rats for that – they couldn't help having sharp claws, and they never scratched her on purpose.

The two male rats stilled as soon as they found themselves dangling in the air – both were albinos, and if it were possible for a rat to look sheepish, these two did. They eyed her carefully.

" What have I told you two about fighting!" she demanded of them furiously. " This is your second warning. If I catch you at it again, you'll both get a week in solitary. Do you understand me?"

They nodded, a strange gesture amongst rodents. But these weren't ordinary rats – they'd had hundreds of generations of breeding amongst a wizarding family, and had been specifically bred for intelligence. A little magic had leaked in to them, aiding the process, and now they all understood what humans could say.

She shook the two albinos gently to drive her point home and then returned them to their cage. They would need to be cleaned out soon – the shed contained a hundred rats, and keeping the cages clean was a pretty much constant task. The gardener's son had promised to look after her rats when she went away to school, and she'd got him to sign a contract to that effect – some aspects of her father's job had rubbed off on her, and legally binding contracts was one of those things.

She took the time to mingle with her rats now, opening cage doors and sitting down on the floor to allow them to reach her. They didn't all come out – she had five nursing mothers at the moment, each in their own cage (away from the males and other jealous females) and she knew they wouldn't leave their babies just yet. She would have a look at them in a minute, once she'd said hello to the rest of her horde.

They crawled, jumped and climbed all over her – they were always pleased to see her. She fed them chocolate drops as treats; they were tame enough to take them from her fingers. They _loved_ chocolate, so she always carried a small tub of them around with her.

After a while, however, she ushered them all back in to their cages and had a look at the new babies. The litters were large; each had no fewer than ten babies, and one mother had excelled herself – she had nineteen fat, nursing babies, and they all looked healthy. She was glad. Sometimes a new mother would eat some or even all of her kits. It was a tragedy that only experience and lack of stress could combat. Luckily, all the mothers had both, and it looked as if she would keep all the babies.

She'd followed her mother's breeding program for them, carefully following her notes, and when those became obsolete she started her own and kept the breeding plan going. She loved her rats. They were the closest things she had to friends. She wasn't a close companion to any of her cousins; Morgana had her own circle of friends that didn't include Meredith, and Morgana's little brothers Gideon and Tobias were banned from ever seeing their uncle. Apparently Meredith's mother had been in the early stages of pregnancy with twin boys, and seeing them reminded him too much of the loss of his wife.

The day was already much warmer when she left her shed and ran in to the house to have a quick wash. Cook was busy in the kitchen preparing breakfast; she didn't seem to mind that Meredith had already eaten.

" You're too thin, lass," she would comment before heaping extra food on to her plate. " You need a wee bit more meat on your bones, so you do."

Meredith never complained. Next to her rats and her books, food was her next best friend. The only trouble she had was gaining a little weight. Cook told her that her mother had been just the same – " She could eat like a horse, that woman, and never an extra ounce sat on her hips." Cook had liked Francesca, and it was from her that Meredith had got most of her knowledge about the woman who had died when Meredith was so young.

She paused to compose herself before she walked sedately in to the dining room. Her father hated her making fuss and noise, so she was always silent at breakfast save for a mutual exchange of good mornings.

Today, however, was different. After Benedict had greeted her he passed her an opened letter; curious, she began to read.

" This came for you this morning," Benedict told her in cold, clipped tones, his brown eyes hard. " It's your Hogwarts letter."

Meredith's own eyes lit up with pleasure, and she smiled as she read the letter.

_Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry_

_Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore_

_(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf Warlock,_

_Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. Of Wizards)_

_Dear Miss Corrigan,_

_We are pleased to inform you that you have a place at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment._

_Term begins on 1st September. We await your owl by no later than 31st July._

_Yours sincerely, _

_Minerva McGonagall _

_Deputy Headmistress_

Meredith read the letter with mounting excitement before moving on to the equipment list.

_HOGWARTS SCHOOL OF WITCHCRAFT AND WIZARDRY_

Uniform

_First year students will require:_

_Three sets of plain robes (black)_

_One plain pointed hat (black) for day wear_

_One pair of protective gloves (dragon hide or similar)_

_One winter cloak (black, silver fastenings)_

_Please note that all pupils' clothes should carry name tags_

Set Books

_All students should have a copy of each of the following:_

The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 1) _by Miranda Goshawk_

A History of Magic _by Bathilda Bagshot_

Magical Theory _by Adalbert Waffling_

A Beginners Guide to Transfiguration _by Emeric Switch_

One Thousand Herbs and Magical Fungi _by Phyllida Spore_

Magical Drafts and Potions _by Arsenius Jigger_

Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them _by Newt Scamander_

The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection _by Quentin Trimble_

Other Equipment

_1 wand_

_1 cauldron (pewter, size 2)_

_1 set glass or crystal phials_

_1 telescope_

_1 set brass scales_

_Students mat also bring an owl OR a cat OR a toad_

_PARENTS ARE REMINDED THAT FIRST-YEARS ARE NOT ALLOWED THEIR OWN BROOMSTICKS_

Meredith grinned. " I have most of these books already, father," she remarked, running one finger down the list.

" Good. I'm not giving you money to pay for books you already have – it doesn't specify that they must be new." His lips had thinned in to a thin, disapproving line, which she ignored. " I've already sent an owl with my acceptance of your tenure at Hogwarts. Cook will be taking you to Diagon Alley as soon as you've finished your breakfast."

She looked at him with some surprise. " Cook? But couldn't Aunt Felicity take me? Morgana's going up this year too-"

Benedict slammed his fist down on the table top, making the plates rattle.

" How many times must I tell you not to talk about Felicity!" he thundered.

Meredith bit her lip – she'd forgotten, of course. She only said the name on rare occasions, and on each one her father had gone in to a towering rage and then not spoken to her for days afterwards. He glared at her now, and when he spoke again his voice was icy cold.

" Finish your breakfast quickly and go to the kitchen. Cook will be waiting for you. I don't want to see you again today."

" Yes, sir," she replied softly, fighting back tears. She never showed emotion in front of her father – all she ever got from _him_ was anger and disapproval, and she'd vowed long ago never to give him anything in return. Not even her sorrow.

She slid from her seat now, reaching back to snag one last piece of toast, and ran out of the room on light feet. She ate the toast as she walked to the kitchen, briefly lamenting that she'd not had time to spread it with butter; the walk, and eating, gave her the time she needed to compose herself before talking to Cook.

Aunt Felicity never came to visit them, and her twin boys – both six now – weren't welcome either. Morgana had stirred herself to visit from time to time; both girls were extremely similar, in looks if not in personality, and they were the same age.

Felicity and Francesca had been twins, and Francesca's death had shocked and saddened her. She'd pleaded with Benedict to be allowed to look after Meredith, but he'd bluntly refused. And here she was, stuck in the huge mansion with a cold, distant father that didn't love her. She sniffed once before plastering a smile on her face.

Cook gave her one brief, searching look before enveloping the girl in a motherly hug. Surprised but pleased, Meredith allowed herself to relax slightly before pulling away.

" Thanks, Cook," she replied, giving the plump older woman a genuine smile this time. " I needed that."

" And you looked like it, lass," she replied. Cook wasn't her real name – it was her title, as she had complete control of the kitchens and the few other kitchen staff – but that was the only name Meredith had ever known her by, and it was all Cook allowed the child to call her. Even if she ever did learn her real name, she suspected that the woman would always be Cook to her.

" I got my Hogwarts letter this morning," Meredith told her, handing over the equipment list. " Father said you'd take me to Diagon Alley?"

Cook nodded. " Yes, and I shall." She fished her wand out of her apron pocket and looked thoughtfully at the list. " But you've got some of these things already my dear, don't you?"

Meredith nodded. " I already have the gloves and the winter cloak," she replied.

" And as for books, I've got everything except A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration. Oh, and I've got a telescope, too."

Cook tapped her wand over the things Meredith called out, and they vanished as she tapped each one. " Right, that still leaves a lot of things to get. Have you given much thought to what sort of familiar you'd like?"

" Nothing seems particularly appealing," Meredith replied with a sigh. " I don't want a cat, everybody's got an owl and toads are so _common_. I want to take my rats."

Cook smiled. " I'm sure rats are allowed, although it doesn't say on the list. They always were in my day. You know you can't take them all, though."

Meredith rolled her eyes. " Of course," she answered. " I was thinking maybe two or three?" she asked hopefully.

" Two," Cook said firmly. " No more. And a same sex pair at that – if I let you take a buck and a doe you'll start up a breeding program again and Hogwarts'll be over-run." There was a humorous twinkle in her eyes. " I know you, m'girl, only too well."

Meredith grinned sheepishly. " That you do. Ok, so just two rats. Are you ready to take me to Diagon Alley now?"


	4. Chapter 4

**CHAPTER TWO**

Diagon Alley, as the premier location for wizarding supplies, was well hidden from the muggle world. Cook took Meredith's hand and made sure she closed her eyes for the Side-Along Apparition spell she used to take them to a quiet, non-descript London road. Cook had a quick, furtive look to make sure that they hadn't been seen by any of the muggles who were busy hurrying about their business; when they were satisfied that they remained unseen, she swept Meredith along in front of her and through a short series of other streets.

Finally they came to a halt in front of a tiny, grubby looking pub – the portal between the ordinary, non-magical world of the muggles and the enchanted land of wizards and witches. The Leaky Cauldron was largely non-descript – so non-descript, in fact, that all the muggles just hurried on past it. They didn't spare it a second glance, and for good reason – it was invisible to non-magical eyes. Cook steered her quickly and neatly through the door and in to a completely different world.

The interior of the Leaky Cauldron was dark, shabby and very smoky; Meredith coughed briefly as smoke caught in the back of her throat. A group of old women were sitting in a gloomy corner drinking tiny glasses of sherry; one of the ghastly old hags was smoking a long-stemmed pipe. The barman was very tall and very bald; his skin was brown and shrivelled and he looked almost exactly like a wizened old walnut.

Meredith kept close to Cook as the older woman led her through the crowded pub; going through the bar, they emerged in to a small walled courtyard. There was nothing here but a dustbin and a few straggly weeds.

Meredith frowned. " But where's Diagon Alley?" she asked.

" Patience, child, patience," Cook murmured gently. She was eyeing the wall carefully, counting bricks under her breath. " Three up…two across…yes, that's the one" She tapped a completely plain brick with the point of her wand.

The place she'd tapped quivered and wriggled in the middle; a small hole appeared that grew wider and wider by the second. And a few seconds later a tall, wide archway had appeared as if from nowhere. Meredith raised one eyebrow, impressed.

" This," said Cook, " is Diagon Alley."

The moment they'd stepped through the archway it shrunk and finally vanished behind them, ready for the next set of witches and wizards seeking entrance.

Meredith's eyes were huge as they made their way along the busy, bustling street. It was packed with magical folk and their children, all popping in and out of the rows of shops that lined the cobbled road.

Their first stop was to Slug and Jiggers Apothecary, a fascinating establishment crammed to the rafters with all manner of interesting potions ingredients. The stench in the shop was almost unbearable, but Meredith was easily able to ignore it in the joy of discovering that her father had authorised Cook to buy her 'whatever she needed'. Cook's definition of 'whatever she needed' was more in line with Meredith's ideas than Benedict's, and for this she was glad – she came out carrying a large box.

The next stop was the cauldron shop, where they bought a collapsible pewter cauldron. They bypassed Eeylops Owl Emporium and went straight to Flourish and Blotts where Cook bought A Beginner's Guide to Transformation by Emeric Switch.

After that came Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions, where Meredith was measured for her robes and the hat. Madam Malkin was a squat, smiling witch wearing mauve robes, and Meredith had a conversation on the magical nature of certain threads. They talked about Invisibility Cloaks, dragon hide and various other types of material; she found the discussion both stimulating and informative.

For her part, Malkin seemed both pleased and surprised to be having such a conversation with any of her customers. She was used to having the occasional chat with some of the older mothers and their servants, but never their children. The majority of pure-blooded children were arrogant and spoiled, but this one was different – she was polite and well spoken, with a ready smile on her face, and seemed both knowledgeable and keen about magical garments.

Meredith was overjoyed – she knew a little about magical fabrics already, but Madam Malkin tolled her about many more types. She was desperately interested in all forms of magic. She wanted to know how it worked, what made it tick…she needed to know its inner workings.

Malkin was so pleased to be having an intelligent conversation with the child that she knocked twenty five percent from the price. Cook was pleased, and as a reward, she treated Meredith to a huge ice-cream sundae (with all the trimmings) at Florean Fortescue's Ice-Cream Parlour. She polished it off with room to spare whilst Cook was barely half way down hers – with a laugh, the older woman let her finish that off too.

After lunch Meredith found herself drawn to the Magical Menagerie, a shop she had always wanted to visit. It was busy with the bustle and scrabble of many different animals. Cages lined the walls; Meredith saw cats, enormous purple toads, bejewelled tortoises, bright orange snails, cages and cages of birds and one large cage filled with black rats. She eyed them with interest, willing herself not to go near them; with so many rats at home, she had no need to buy any – but they were handsome creatures, and she saw the same spark of intelligence in their eyes as was in her own rats.

" You don't want one, and you don't need one," Cook murmured in her ear behind them as they wandered around the shop. " You know the breeding of your rats back unto the nth generation. You know their names, their parents' names, their brothers and sisters. You bred out all the illnesses, nursed them through their sniffles and buried them when they died. They're _your_ rats."

Meredith sighed. Cook was right, but still she eyed the rats – they were sleek and smooth. Perhaps if she allowed her two darkest chocolate coloured rats to mate, she could breed a black strain…or she could import…

" Ah, you're right," she sighed again. " And I bet they'd bite me, too."

" Look at those birds," Cook directed her. One whole wall was covered with birdcages; they cawed softly to themselves, some of them preening their feathers or peering at the rats and the fat rabbits with a decidedly hungry look.

Meredith went over to them. " Hello," she said to one that was at her eye level, a large raven with shiny black feathers. " You're a handsome fellow." His cage was far too small, she noticed now; he barely had the room to stretch his wings. " I bet you'd love to fly away, wouldn't you? Spread those wings?"

The bird hopped from side to side on its perch, head turned to one side as it regarded her with a beady black eye.

" Take me away from this bloody shop and I will worship the ground you walk on," the raven replied. " The bitch who owns this shop keeps as all locked up, we never get a moment to ourselves. Open bloody sky! I need to flap my sodding wings!"

Meredith nearly fell over; she'd never heard a bird talking before! How could she suddenly understand them? Had the raven somehow learned the human tongue?

" Well done, dear," Cook said over her shoulder. " I always wondered if you'd have crawspeech. Your mother had it, and your Aunt Felicity, but Morgana doesn't. I heard she was furious when she found out."

Meredith was almost speechless, but the cat hadn't entirely got her tongue. " I read about crawspeech! This is awesome! But – that raven was swearing like a trooper…"

" You've heard them calling to each other in the air – they're the rudest birds I know, and some of the most intelligent, too."

Crawspeech was an interesting magical ability, somewhat similar to Parselmouth, whereby the speaker could talk to snakes in their own language and also understand what they said. Crawspeech was a little different. It allowed the speaker to understand only what the corvid family could say (this included ravens, crows, jackdaws, magpies and other similar birds). They understood human language perfectly well but they lacked a human-shaped mouth to speak it; instead, human speakers of crawspeech spoke the bird-tongue. It was a rare ability, though not so rare as being a Parselmouth. Like the snake-tongue, it ran in families.

" I expect I could learn a few words I didn't know before from a bird like you," Meredith whispered to the raven.

" Too bloody right," he replied. " The f-word, various different b-words, s-words, the c-word – you don't want to use _that_ one in polite company-" and the bird made a harsh cawing noise that she realised after a moment must be the sound of his laughter.

" If you want a bird, you ought to get an owl," Cook told her disapprovingly.

" Ravens have a reputation, you know."

The bird cackled again. " Too bloody right we have! Eating eyeballs, pouring out bad language and generally mocking people. That's what we do. Please, girl, buy me, set me free from this arse-hole of a shop and I will love you forever."

Meredith laughed. " Can you deliver messages, though?" she asked. " I'm due to start at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry in just over a month's time, and I may be forced to use the school owls if I can't find a reliable bird."

Cook was watching the interchange with a slightly raised eyebrow.

" You won't find a more reliable bloody bird than me," the raven replied. " Reliable Robin, that's what they call me – well, they would if I was a robin, anyway," he continued. " I never get caught in the air. A big nasty eagle comes after me? Bollocks to that, I say, I'm a bird on a mission. Reliable. That's me."

Meredith was laughing now, and laughing hard. After a moment she wiped her eyes.

" What's your name?" she asked. Cook rolled her eyes and muttered about girls that made friends with animals too easily.

" Dave," the raven replied.

Meredith's eyebrow shot right up. " _Dave_?" she asked, hiding a smile. " That's not a very bird-like name."

Dave extended his wings a little, and the feathers brushed against the side of the cage. Meredith got the impression that it was some sort of bird-shrug.

" It's a good enough name," he replied, raising one wing high enough to duck his head underneath it. She heard a brief gnawing noise as he preened himself.

Meredith couldn't leave him in this condition – the Magical Menagerie was no place for any animal, when the cages were so small. She turned to Cook, her eyes bright with feigned innocence. She opened her mouth to ask the question.

" Yes, you may buy him," Cook interrupted her tiredly. She handed Meredith a small pouch of golden Galleons. " Go and pay the lady."

Cook offered to carry Dave's cage; it was heavy and unwieldy and would have been incredibly difficult for a small child to carry. Instead, Meredith carried the rest of her packages – the box from Slug and Jiggers Apothecary, the paper bag containing her robes from Madam Malkin's and the small bag of All-Purpose Bird Food she'd got from the Magical Menagerie. Their next stop was to a shop called Scribbulus Everlasting Inks, one of many stationary shops in Diagon Alley, and it was here that Meredith stocked up on quills, bottles of ink and rolls and rolls of blank parchment.

" Are we nearly done yet?" Meredith asked as they emerged some time later. " My feet are starting to hurt!"

" Yes, we're nearly done, dear," Cook replied. She looked tired and a little grumpy.

" Just one more shop now. Ollivander's – we need to buy you a wand, and then we can go home."

Meredith perked up immediately. " A wand! Cool! You have no idea how much I want a wand!"

Cook smiled fondly. " I kind of get the impression that you've wanted one for a while. I imagine you'll be practicing as soon as you get home."

Meredith was grinning still as they stopped outside another shop. It was narrow and shabby; peeling gold letters over the door read _Ollivander's: Makers of Fine Wands since 382 BC._ A single wand lay on a faded purple cushion in the dusty window.

" I thought Ollivander's would be a – well – a more up-market place," Meredith remarked, confused. Cook opened the door and ushered her in, and she looked around. The inside was tiny, with no furnishings except one spindly old chair. Thousands upon thousands of wand-boxes were stacked up to the ceiling.

" Yes, most people think that," Cook replied quietly. " But Mr Ollivander is the best wand-maker in Great Britain – best in Europe, some people say. He doesn't need to advertise himself." The shop was silent and dusty.

" Good afternoon," said a soft voice from the gloom, and Meredith jumped slightly. An old man shuffled forwards in to the light. He was small and slight, with a wild shock of hair and wide, pale eyes that shone like twin moons.

" Good afternoon, Mr Ollivander," Cook replied briskly. " I trust you're not overworked, what with the rush of first-years through your door?"

Meredith hid a smile at the thought of a rush – _any_ rush – in this quiet little shop.

" Never too busy to see to the daughter of an old friend. Willow, eleven inches, dragon heartstring, wasn't it?"

Cook smiled. " Your memory, as ever, is impeccable," she replied. " But Meredith here isn't my daughter, though sometimes I wish that she were. No, I work for Benedict Corrigan now. This is his only daughter."

Ollivander's eyebrows shot up to his hairline. " A young Corrigan, is it?" he asked, peering at her closely.

" Yes sir," she replied respectfully.

" I had your cousin Morgana in here just this morning," he remarked. " Willow, I believe, twelve inches, unicorn hair. Interesting, very interesting. Now, let's get you measured…"

And as Meredith stood there, feeling slightly bemused, Ollivander bustled around her taking measurements. When he was done, he started flitting around the shelves, taking down box after box. He opened the first one.

" Try this, dear. Give it a nice swish."

He handed her the first of many wands, calling out their description as she waved each one. She got varying results, mostly no more than a few damp sparks.

" Beech wood and dragon heartstring, nine inches. Maple and phoenix feather, seven inches, ebony and unicorn hair, eight and a half inches, holly and phoenix feather, eleven and a half inches…no, no…ahhh…"

Ollivander gave a pleased sigh as he handed her one last wand. When she swished it, it produced a stream of swirling green and silver sparks, sparkling like fireworks.

" Bravo, Miss Corrigan, bravo. Willow, twelve and a quarter inches. Dragon heartstring. Interesting…do you have a temper, dear girl?"

Meredith blushed. " I try not to, sir," she replied. " But it sneaks up on me sometimes."

Ollivander smiled. " Of course, of course. But the wand chooses the wizard, indeed."

Cook settled the bill and they left with their packages. Meredith was feeling very tired, but very happy at the same time – she had everything she needed to start at Hogwarts now, and she couldn't wait!

" Strike a bloody light, girly, you going to let me out of this frigging cage anytime soon?" Dave cawed, his wings brushing the metal bars.

" Soon, Dave, soon. But we need to get home first. Won't be long."


	5. Chapter 5

**CHAPTER THREE**

The next month or so passed in a blur as Meredith prepared herself for her new life at Hogwarts. Truthfully she didn't have an awful lot to do; she reread all the set texts that she already owned, refreshing her memory, before starting on A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration. She'd finished that within three days and was busily rereading it, jotting down notes and flicking to the more interesting bits.

She also practised a few basic spells – nothing much, just a few spells at the beginning of The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 1), and to her joy they worked perfectly. She couldn't wait to go to school!

She also made friends with Dave the Raven, and found him to be a most intriguing bird. He had an interesting history – he'd been the familiar of several different powerful wizards but none of them had had crawspeech.

" But all the stupid bastards went bad," he remarked sadly. " Death Eaters, the lot of them. Never could be having with that evil malarkey."

" You were owned by Death Eaters?" Meredith asked, awed.

The bird nodded on his perch. Since they'd returned from Diagon Alley, she hadn't caged him, and he'd remained faithful to her; he never flew too far away, and he always came back. Having space to stretch his wings and to feel the wind under them seemed to be the most important thing to him, and she had no desire to change that. He understood that there would be occasions when he would have to be caged, but they were few, and he was happy.

" Yeah. Filthy, stinking little bastards. Ooh, the names I could call them – but I won't, cause you're still too young for _that_ kind of talk, missy."

" I'm eleven years old, you know," she remarked with dignity – and then laughed, because what she'd said was so obviously absurd. She _was_ too young to learn the kind of bad language that Dave knew.

" How did you come to be in the Magical Menagerie?" she asked.

" Last owner got AK'd," he replied, scratching at his perch. " I got squashed under the body as he fell, and that witch from the shop rescued me, healed me up – and then stuck me a in a cage."

" AK'd?" Meredith asked curiously. " What's that?"

" You never heard of that?" Dave cawed with disbelief. " Never heard of someone being _AK'd_? It's the Killing Curse, dearie. Avada Kedavra."

" Ahh," she replied. " Yes, of course I've heard of _that_ spell. Who hasn't? But I'd never heard it referred to as that before. Makes sense, though, I suppose."

And so the final countdown began to the 1st September. On the final day of August Cook helped her to pack; her father was absent, and had been for the last week – apparently he was on a business trip to Leipzig, and he wouldn't be returning until days after she'd left. She wasn't sad about that. Benedict's presence as she left would be enough to spoil her happiness.

All her equipment was packed away in her trunks, and locked ready for the journey. Cook prepared a small travel bag for her; it contained her new Hogwarts robes (for when the train arrived) and a hearty packed lunch.

Meredith packed a few vital things herself. Both Dave's and the rats' cages were strapped carefully to the trolley; like Dave, the two rats she'd chosen to go with her were intelligent enough to realise that they were better off staying close to her.

Normally Meredith obeyed Cook to the letter, but in one thing she disobeyed her – she was taking four rats, not two, and they were her two finest breeding pairs.

She'd had litters from them in the past and they produced fine, healthy kits. Desdemona the doe was a beautiful cinnamon colour with glittering black eyes, whilst her mate Randulf was a fine hooded buck rat. His head was a brown so dark as to be almost black, and he had a few dark spots over his white flank. The other pair consisted of Hestia, an albino female, and Penfold, a chocolate brown buck. Cook knew nothing about determining the gender of rats, and she felt quite confident that could smuggle the other pair away without Cook noticing.

September the 1st dawned clear and cool, with the sky a delicate shade of powder blue. Meredith was up at nearly five o'clock; she'd had even less sleep than she normally did because she was so excited. She dressed quickly in her usual long dark skirt and white blouse, with warm knee-high boots in deference to the weather. This skirt was filled with pockets, and both her pairs of rats were more than used to travelling in them.

She ate a hasty breakfast and ran down to her rat-shed. The gardener's son, Derrick, would be along later on in the day and every other day afterwards to look after her horde; he was an intelligent boy and at eighteen, he had already finished school. He'd taken Care of Magical Creatures and Herbology at NEWT level, and received Outstanding grades in those subjects and others; Meredith didn't know anyone else who could give better care to her pets. He would treat them right. And, even more importantly, he understood the breeding program she had implemented and would follow it to the letter, sending her regular updates and waiting for her feedback.

After saying her goodbyes and gathering up the rats that would be going with her, she spent some time rereading _Hogwarts: A History_ for a little background information. Cook brought her a second breakfast that she wolfed down, smuggling little pieces of toast down to the rats to gnaw on, and tossing up a slice of sausage to Dave.

" Cooked meat," he gasped around his beakful, " the most wondrous of human inventions. So much better than road-kill!"

" Dave, you're charming. Don't talk about squished meat when I'm trying to eat, ok?"

Dave cawed, whether in agreement or denial she didn't know.

Finally, finally, they were ready to go to the muggles King's Cross Station. The Hogwarts Express was due to leave Platform Nine and Three Quarters at 11am precisely and it was Cook's job to get her on that train.

They assembled in the grand Entrance Hall of the mansion. Meredith's trunks were neatly packed and on her trolley, along with the cages; Desdemona and Randulf were riding in her pockets as stowaways whilst Penfold and Hestia had chosen to stay in their cage on the trolley. Her bag was slung cross-wise over her shoulder – Dave had taken up his usual spot on her other shoulder and was still chattering away enthusiastically about the joys of cooked meat when Cook spoke. Meredith shushed the bird and listened.

" Ok, we're all set, dear," she said, beaming down at the dark-haired girl. " Oh, I'm so proud! Your first year at school! Now, listen to me – I'll use a Side-Along Apparition spell to take you and all this lot-" she gestured at the laden trolley – " to King's Cross. You'll follow me through the gate to Platform Nine and Three Quarters, and then I'll set you on the train. Are you ready?"

" Cook, I've never been so ready in my life," Meredith replied excitedly. " Let's go!"

King's Cross was bustling as they arrived; Meredith noticed several other wizarding families trying to make themselves as unobtrusive as possible as they made their way to the hidden platform. They walked straight up to the barrier – closer and closer – and then they were through. They had just apparently walked through a solid brick wall!

But the magical barrier was rather like the entrance to the Leaky Cauldron; to muggles, it was a solid brick wall. You could only walk through it if you knew it was there.

They emerged on to platform Nine and Three Quarters at precisely ten minutes to eleven. The scarlet Hogwarts Express was an old-fashioned steam train, loaded with compartments that were already filling up with a variety of children from the ages of eleven to seventeen. Meredith felt a little daunted until Dave piped up from her shoulder.

" Look at all them bloody kids," he moaned, shifting restlessly from claw to claw.

" Packed in like sardines, the lot of 'em. And we're going in there! Can't you get Cook to fly you there on a broomstick?"

Meredith snorted as they walked the length of the trains to where porters were helping people to load their trunks.

" No chance of that. Firstly, I'm not allowed to have a broomstick until next year; secondly, do you _know_ how long it takes to get to Hogwarts? Hours and hours, that's how long. I read in _Hogwarts: A History_ that we'll be travelling all afternoon and in to the early evening. It'll be dark before we get there."

Dave grumbled but Meredith ignored him, instead watching all her trunks and cages as they were loaded on. The porters were using the Locomotor spell to shift them from the trolleys and in to the carriage.

" There, all done," Cook remarked with satisfaction. " Now, I'll say this quickly before you get on the train – I know you're a smart girl, and I know you've always got your head in a book. You have levels of knowledge that some seventh year students don't have."

Meredith looked at her, puzzled – where was she going with this?

" Sit back in class, take the time to get to know people," Cook continued. " Make friends. Don't always be the first person to put your hand up, even if you know the answer to the question. Nobody likes a show-off know-it-all."

" But I've never shown off," Meredith replied.

" Only because you've never had the opportunity. You'll probably get house points if you get questions right, and the desire to answer those questions will be strong. _Don't show off_. You can get all the house points and acclaim you need in homework and class projects."

" So you're saying I should be the second?" she asked, unsure of herself.

" Not all the time. If nobody else knows the answer, offer the information, but be careful."

Meredith nodded solemnly. " I'll try and remember that, Cook."

The older woman enveloped the girl in a huge hug, faint tears in her eyes.

" I'll miss you," she told her charge. " I'll write to you often. You'll write me too?"

" Of course I will, Cook!" Meredith replied. She gave the woman one last hug before she turned and stepped on to the train. She managed to find one carriage that was empty and settled herself down, looking out the window at Cook as the big steam train rolled away. They waved to each other as they faded in to the distance.

The carriage door rolled open a short minute later and a tall boy strolled in, hands in his pockets. " Mind if I sit here?" he asked in a pleasant Irish voice. It was very soft and she almost had to strain to hear him. " There're no carriages left, and I don't fancy scrumming it with the rest of the mortals out there." He threw himself in to the seat opposite her. " I'm Conan by the way, Conan Kelly."

Meredith was a little taken aback at his forthright attitude; she'd not had much contact with other children her age, and Conan seemed to be rather forceful. He brushed his sandy blonde hair out of his brown eyes.

" Hi," she replied guardedly. " Meredith Corrigan. Pleased to meet you," she added as an afterthought.

" So, are you all set for a new life at Hogwarts?" he asked her, giving her an interested look.

" More ready than you could possibly realise," she replied. " I didn't want to leave home – I've got a breeding program going on, don't you know – but I want to learn all the magic I can," she finished enthusiastically.

The door slid open again and a thin boy with pale blonde hair and grey eyes poked his head through the opening.

" I just thought I'd introduce myself to potential Slytherins," he told them. There was an unpleasant gleam in his eyes that she wasn't sure she liked. " The name's Draco, Draco Malfoy," he continued. " My family has been in Slytherin for centuries."

Meredith sensed that Draco expected her to be impressed by this, so she forced a suitable expression on her face.

" I'm Meredith, and this is Conan," she introduced them. Draco gave Conan a suspicious, distrustful look before tipping a nod in her direction and leaving.

" Never did like the Malfoy family," Conan remarked. " Bunch of stuck up twats, the lot of them." He seemed entirely at home swearing in front of a virtual stranger, and Meredith smiled.

" Bloody hell, kid's got a mouth on him," Dave piped up from his spot on her shoulder. " Lad after my own heart, that one. Go on, introduce us."

Conan was looking at the bird with interest. " Ah, _Corvus corax_ if I'm not mistaken." She looked blank at his words.

" The Latin name for a raven. Fine looking bird you've got there – did you know a group of ravens can be called an unkindness, a constable or a conspiracy?" Meredith shook her head then stifled a smile as Dave spoke again.

" An unkindness – too bloody right mate, too bloody right. I like that. Give the kid a pat on the back!"

" Sssh, Dave, I'm talking to him," she told him, not realising that all Conan would hear was her croaking like a raven.

" Wow, you know crawspeech! That's really rare!"

Meredith reached up and gently stroked Dave's smooth head. " This is Dave – I bought him from the Magical Menagerie in Diagon Alley. Well, rescued him, actually – the woman who runs the place was keeping him in a tiny cage. It's cruel to keep a bird locked up like that."

Desdemona and Randulf chose that moment to poke their noses out of the pockets in her skirt, and Conan's eyes grew large. " Rats as well? How many other pets are you carrying around?" he teased. " A toad in your hair, maybe? A hamster behind your ear?"

Meredith laughed. " Nope, just Desdemona and Randulf here. I've got another two rats lurking in my luggage."

" So what's this breeding program you were talking about?"

She smiled, pleased that somebody was taking an interest in her rats. Desdemona scrambled out of her pocket and climbed up to her free shoulder; she scooped Randulf out and held him up for Conan to take a closer look at.

" I've got about a hundred rats at home, in my shed," she began. " I've bred them for intelligence – they understand what I'm saying, and they obey commands. Generally. I know all their bloodlines, where they came from, things like that. Our gardener's son, Derrick, has agreed to look after them when I'm at Hogwarts – he can keep the lines going, follow my plans, that sort of thing."

" Why did you bring _four_ with you?"

" To start my own breeding program at Hogwarts, of course," she replied.

" Desdemona will be ready to be mated in a week or so, although I may wait until I'm settled before I saddle myself with kits. Two pairs isn't really enough to start a successful program, but Derrick said he'll send me other rats smuggled in with packages of cakes and things, if I want."

Conan looked impressed. " Well, I can see that you surely know your stuff! Normally my family and I are more concerned with killing rats than breeding them – my dad's an undertaker."

" That's…nice, I suppose," she replied. She didn't quite know what to say.

Conan grinned. " Nice my arse. It's a gloomy job, no two ways about it. My mother wanted Dad to give it up, and do something less dark, but he's always done very well – there's always customers, you see."

" I guess there must be," Meredith remarked faintly.

The door slid open again, and two girls walked through this time. They threw themselves down on the seats, one next to Meredith and one next to Conan.

" Sorry to interrupt," the first one said. She was tall and willowy, with long, dirty blonde hair and bright blue eyes.

" Couldn't get a seat anywhere else," the other girl added. She was very small and slight with delicate features and dark eyes. Her shiny black hair was cut in to a smart bob.

" That's ok," Meredith replied. " There's plenty of room in here. I'm Meredith Corrigan, and this Conan Kelly."

The blonde girl introduced herself as Ophelia Blake, and the dark haired girl was Mariana Buchanan. They were immensely interested in Dave; Ophelia's parents ran a bird sanctuary, and she loved birds. The tiny Mariana seemed to be a very shy girl, but she was fascinated with the glossy black raven. Her rats also went down a storm – once they were reassured that they wouldn't be bitten if they handled them carefully, they were keen to cuddle the little rodents.


	6. Chapter 6

**CHAPTER FOUR**

The rest of the journey passed in easy chatter; a witch came round later on pushing a snack trolley. Meredith had plenty of coins with her, stashed away in her bag, so she stocked up on Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans, her favourite Chocolate Frogs (she was halfway through a sizeable collection of Chocolate Frog Trading Cards), Pumpkin Pasties and Cauldron Cakes. She shared them with Ophelia and Mariana. Conan politely refused, saying he was saving himself for the feast once they'd all been Sorted.

Meredith's ears perked up at mention of the feast, and her stomach growled. Belatedly she remembered that Cook had packed her some sandwiches – she offered them to her two new friends, but they laughingly refused, saying they were too full of sweets to eat anything until dinner time. Meredith didn't mind all that much; she shared her lunch with Desdemona, Randulf and Dave, and then took a little time out to wander along the carriages to where their luggage was stored. It only took her a minute to find where her rat cages were. Hestia and Penfold were asleep but as soon as she entered the carriage they woke and began sniffing interestedly at the bars of their cage. Popping open the small hatch at the top, she dropped in two sizeable chunks of her sandwich before closing the hatch.

" Won't be long now, my little loves," she told them. " I'll smuggle you out some food from the feast as well – you'll have a grand little feast of your own!"

She ran in to Draco Malfoy as she was heading back to her carriage. Desdemona and Randulf were asleep in her pockets again, but Dave refused to be parted from her shoulder. She wondered idly if she would be allowed to have him in her classes.

" Corrigan, wasn't it?" Draco asked her as they steadied themselves against the rocking motion of the train. She nodded, her eyes drifting to the two thickset, mean looking boys that flanked him. They were both much taller than him.

" And you're Malfoy."

" That's right. And these are Crabbe and Goyle." He jerked his head to each one of them in turn. " I've just been talking to the famous Harry Potter," he continued. His face twisted a little, and she got the distinct impression that he didn't like the other boy.

" And…?" she asked. She knew he was one of the greatest legends of their age for having caused the death of Voldemort at the age of only one, but she wasn't particularly interested in getting to know him.

" And he doesn't seem like the sort that _I'd_ like to associate with," he continued.

" He's rude. He's made friends with the Weasley's, blood-traitors the lot of them, _and_ he'd hanging around with a filthy mud-blood." His face twisted more violently, and Meredith decided that she really didn't like Draco. Although her family were pure blooded, she'd never made a fuss about it, and she had nothing against people that came from non-wizarding families. The magic took hold of whom it would, regardless of their race, creed or wizarding background. After all, some children born to wizarding families were Squibs, with no magical abilities whatsoever.

" I take it you hate them, then," she replied as diplomatically as she could. He wouldn't draw her out on an opinion, not before she'd even met the people he was talking about.

" Hate them? They're not worthy of hate. Contempt, maybe, but not hate. Hey, what's that you've got in your pockets? They're wriggling!"

Desdemona had woken up and poked her head out of her pocket. At the sight of it, Goyle made a tiny whimpering noise and ran off down the hallway. Meredith looked after him, bemused.

Draco was rolling his eyes whilst the thug he'd identified as Crabbe was sniggering.

" What's his problem?" she asked. " Doesn't he like rats?"

" He just got bitten by one," Draco replied darkly. " Better keep your rats away from us. That flea-bitten bird of yours, too."

" Excuse _me_," she replied firmly, putting her hands on her hips and glaring across at Malfoy, " but my rats don't bite people unless they're provoked, _or_ I tell them to. They're a hell of a lot more intelligent than some people I've met-" and her eyes strayed to where Crabbe had fallen silent at her tirade, " _and_ they understand what I say! And for your information, my raven is _not_ flea-bitten – he doesn't have a flea on him."

" Let me peck his bloody eyes out, Meredith, please…just a little bit…a nice juicy eyeball?" Dave begged, shifting restlessly from foot to foot and stretching his wings out.

She ignored the bird, still glaring pointedly at Draco. For a brief second he seemed impressed at her display of anger but that expression was replaced almost instantly by one of mild disdain.

" Whatever," he replied carelessly. " I'll be seeing you around, Corrigan. Come on, Crabbe, let's go and find Goyle."

They pushed past her and Dave was a hairs breadth away from reaching out and snapping his beak at Draco; Meredith reached up a hand and restrained him.

" Let it go," she said softly.

When they returned to their carriage, Ophelia, Mariana and Conan where pulling their robes on. Night had descended and now there was only darkness outside the windows – they would be arriving at Hogwarts soon!

She briefly shooed Dave up on to the luggage rack as she pulled on her own new robe. She was so excited she could hardly wait!

The train seemed to be slowing down. A voice echoed out of nowhere:- " We will be reaching Hogwarts in five minutes time. Please leave your luggage on the train, it will be taken to the school separately."

Eventually the train slowed right down and came to a complete halt. Children pushed their way to the exits and spilled out on to the platform below; Meredith waited until the worst of the crush had gone before she left. She didn't want her rats to be jostled in her skirt pockets. Dave kept up a running commentary on the children he saw before she shushed him and told him to get back on her shoulder. Grumbling, he obeyed.

When they emerged, they saw that the platform was tiny and dark. This was Hogsmeade train station; Hogsmeade was unique in the wizarding world as being one of the very few villages entirely populated by wizards and concealed by magic. Hogwarts Castle, too, was hidden – if an unsuspecting muggle did happen to come across it, all he would see was a pile of uninviting ruins.

A lamp suddenly came bobbing over their heads and a voice boomed out.

" Firs'-years! Firs'-years over here. C'mon, follow me – any more firs'-years? Mind yer step, now! Firs'-years follow me!"

The man under the lamp was huge and wild, with a thick mop of brown hair and an enormous beard.

" Who's _he_?" Meredith asked Ophelia, awed.

" My mother told me about him – says he's Hagrid, the Keeper of Keys and the Gamekeeper. She says he breeds all manner of creatures in the Forbidden Forest." The first years were following Hagrid down a steep, narrow path; it was pitch black on either side, and Meredith decided there must be thick trees down there. She pulled her robe more tightly around her.

" Do you think we'll ever get to see them?" she asked the blonde girl.

" I'd love to, myself," she replied. " I love magical animals." Meredith was nodding enthusiastically, and she decided that a love of magical creatures was definitely one thing they both had in common. " But I hope for their sakes my mother never goes in there."

" Why not?"

" Oh, she's a country sort of person," came the reply. " Father was city-bred, but mother has always lived in the country. She goes fox-hunting three or four times a week during the season." Ophelia made a face. " She'll hunt anything, my mother. She's trained a lot of her birds to go with her too – hawks and things like that."

" Has she got room for a raven that'll eat eyeballs?" Dave croaked, but Meredith ignored him.

" You don't like hunting?" she asked her friend.

" Not particularly. I mean, there's always the chance that the creature will get away, but there's also the chance that they'll get ripped apart by a pack of ravening hounds. She says it's sport, but _I_ think it's barbaric."

Meredith nodded – this was a view she shared. Animals should be studied, bred from, befriended – not hunted to their deaths.

" Yeh'll get yer firs' sight o' Hogwarts in a sec," Hagrid called over his shoulder,

" jus' round this bend here."

Turning the bend in the narrow path, they saw that it opened out on to the shores of a great black lake, gilded silver in places by the moonlight. Meredith gave a little sigh of appreciation, and all around her other people were doing the same thing. Then she had her first glimpse of Hogwarts, and gave another great sigh.

Perched atop a high mountain on the far side of the lake, Hogwarts was a vast castle. Its many different windows were sparkling in the starry sky, and the turrets and towers were darker silhouettes against the dark sky.

" No more'n four to a boat!" Hagrid called, pointing to a fleet of small boats that were floating on the lake's surface. There was a sudden rush to get in them; Meredith found herself in a boat with Ophelia, Mariana and Conan. They were settling themselves down when Hagrid shouted again.

" Everyone in?" the enormous man had a boat to himself. " Forward!" he yelled, and the boats moved off at once with no obvious means of propulsion save for magic. They glided across the still surface of the lake; it was smooth as glass, with dark, impenetrable depths, and Meredith couldn't help but wonder what lurked in the black gloom. Perhaps she'd have to consult _Hogwarts: A History_ again.

The boats drew closer and closer to the cliffs on the far side of the lake; the castle grew bigger.

" Heads down!" yelled Hagrid as the first of the boats reached the cliff. Ducking down, the boats carried them through a wide opening in the cliff-face, partially screened by a hanging curtain of ivy. They sailed swiftly down a dark tunnel.

" This must go right underneath the castle," Mariana whispered.

They emerged a few minutes later at a large underground harbour; clambering out, they followed Hagrid up a short passageway that brought them out in front of the mighty castle. He led them up a short flight of stone steps and then raised his heavy fist to knock three times on the massive castle door.


	7. Chapter 7

**CHAPTER FIVE**

The huge doors swung open, and they were ushered in to the large Entrance Hall. The walls were lit with flaming torches, and it felt rather warmer and more homely than their brief walk from the train station to the boats had done.

A tall witch with black hair and a rather stern expression greeted them; she pulled emerald green robes more tightly about herself.

" The firs'-years, Professor McGonagall," Hagrid said. So this was the woman who had written to Meredith and other new first year students.

" Thank you, Hagrid. I will take them from here."

Meredith was looking up at the wide marble staircase as Professor McGonagall led them across the flagstone floor. She could hear the steady rumble of voices from a doorway to their right; she guessed that the other students must already be here. McGonagall, however, showed them to a small chamber just off the hall. They crowded in behind her.

" Welcome to Hogwarts," Professor McGonagall began. " The start-of-term banquet will begin shortly, but before you take your seats in the Great Hall, you will be Sorted in to your houses. The Sorting is a very important ceremony because, while you are here, your house will be something like your family within Hogwarts. You will have classes with the rest of your house, sleep in your house dormitory and spend free time in your house common room."

She peered down at the first years gathered around her, and Meredith could sense a keen mind looking out from behind the much older woman's eyes. She judged her to be rather older than Cook.

" The four houses are called Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw and Slytherin. Each house has its own noble history and each has produced outstanding witches and wizards. While you are at Hogwarts, your triumphs will earn you house points, while any rule breaking will lose house points. At the end of the year, the house with the most points is awarded the House Cup, a great honour. I hope each of you will be a credit to whichever house becomes yours."

Meredith's stomach rumbled, and she pressed one hand against it. She hoped nobody had heard, but Ophelia shot her an amused glance.

" The Sorting Ceremony will take place in a few minutes in front of the rest of the school. I suggest you all smarten yourselves up as much as you can while you are waiting. I shall return when we are ready for you," she continued. " Please wait quietly."

They chatted amongst themselves as they waited.

" What house do you think you'll be sorted in to?" Mariana asked, nervously shifting from foot to foot.

" Bugger the houses, I want to eat," Dave cawed. " Ask the old biddy if she's got some eyeballs."

" Will you shut up about eyeballs, for Merlin's sake!" she snapped at the bird.

" What are you talking about?" Ophelia asked her. All anybody else would ever hear was a cawing between bird and human.

" You really don't want to know," she replied with a slight smile. Going back to Mariana's question, she continued, " I hadn't given much thought to the houses, to be honest. I don't suppose I'm too bothered about where I'm put, but I expect it'll be Slytherin. My family have been there for the last two generations."

Speaking of generations, she hadn't seen her cousin Morgana at all during the train journey and the subsequent boat ride – she must be here, surely? Looking around her, she eventually caught sight of the dark haired girl.

" Who's that?" Ophelia asked. " Gosh, she looks like you, doesn't she? Is she your sister? You never told us you had a sister," she finished on slightly accusing tone.

" No, she's not my sister, though we look very alike," Meredith replied. " That's my cousin Morgana. Our mothers were twin sisters – Morgana and I were born at the same time, and her two little brothers are twins too."

" You said _were_?" Mariana probed cautiously.

A shuttered expression came across Meredith's face.

" My mother was killed when I was five," she told her. " Acromantula attack, in Borneo."

" Oh, I'm sorry," Mariana rushed to say, and Meredith could clearly tell that the smaller girl wished she hadn't asked.

There was an awkward silence for a few moments until the whispered conversations of the first-years was interrupted by a stream of about twenty pearl-white and slightly transparent ghosts; they glided across the room, talking to each other and striking up brief conversations with some of the students. Meredith had never seen a ghost before, and they fascinated her now; how could they still be here, and yet dead at the same time? What kept them tied to the world of mortals?

" Excuse me-" she began, trying to speak to the nearest ghost, a beautiful, mournful looking woman in a seventeenth century gown.

" Move along now," interrupted the sharp voice of Professor McGonagall. " The Sorting Ceremony's about to start." The ghosts floated away one by one through the opposite wall.

" Now, form a line," she told the first-years, " and follow me."

They lined up quickly. Meredith was sandwiched between Mariana in front of her and Ophelia behind; a little way in front she could see the tall form of Conan Kelly. Peering behind she noticed the white-blonde head of Draco Malfoy and the two looming presences of his cronies.

The line began to move, and Meredith was carried along in the flow. Walking out of the chamber, they moved back across the Entrance Hall and through a pair of double doors in to the Great Hall.

Meredith had read about the Great Hall in _Hogwarts: A History_, but reading about something as marvellous as this could never hope to live up to the reality of it. The splendid hall was lit with thousands and thousands of candles that floated in mid-air throughout the entire room. All the rest of the students were sitting at four long tables; a high table was laid crosswise to those tables at the far end of the room. The teachers were sitting there. The ghosts flitted here and there amongst the diners, and Meredith dearly wished she'd have the opportunity to get to talk to one of them soon – she had so many questions to ask them!

Of particular interest to her was the ceiling of the Great Hall. Long ago it had been bewitched to look like the sky above, and right now it was velvety black and glittering with stars. She had to drag her eyes away from it to keep an eye on what was happening.

Professor McGonagall had placed a small four-legged stool in front of the group of first-years. On it she placed a patched, frayed and extremely dirty wizard's hat. So this was the Sorting Hat, eh?

For a few seconds there was complete silence. All eyes in the Hall were on the Hat – and then it twitched. A rip near the brim opened like a mouth, and then, remarkably, the Hat began to sing in a deep male voice.

" _Oh, you may not think I'm pretty,_

_But don't judge on what you see,_

_I'll eat myself if you can find_

_A smarter hat than me._

_You can keep your bowlers black,_

_Your top hats sleek and tall,_

_For I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat_

_And I can cap them all._

_There's nothing hidden in your head_

_The Sorting Head can't see,_

_So try me on and I will tell you_

_Where you ought to be._

_You might belong in Gryffindor, _

_Where dwell the brave at heart,_

_Their daring, nerve and chivalry _

_Set Gryffindors apart;_

_You might belong in Hufflepuff,_

_Where they are just and loyal,_

_Those patient Hufflepuffs are true_

_And unafraid of toil;_

_Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw,_

_If you've a ready mind,_

_Where those of wit and learning,_

_Will always find their kind;_

_Or perhaps in Slytherin_

_You'll make your real friends,_

_Those cunning folks use any means_

_To achieve their ends._

_So put me on! Don't be afraid!_

_And don't get in a flap!_

_You're in safe hands (though I have none)_

_For I'm a Thinking Cap!"_

The Hall burst in to applause after the Hat had finished its song. Professor McGonagall stepped forward holding a long roll of parchment.

" When I call your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool to be sorted," she said. " Abbott, Hannah!"

And so began the Sorting Ceremony. Name after name was called; Meredith was fairly near the beginning. She shooed Dave off of her shoulder and watched as he flapped neatly over to sit on the head of one of the suits of armour that dotted the walls.

She sat herself down on the stool with just a touch of nervousness. It was almost too big for her, falling around her ears.

She heard a small male voice in her head and sat very still, willing herself not to react.

" What shall I do with you, eh?" it asked. " You're a mix and no mistake. Great potential, my dear, great potential. Pots of bravery, and very loyal too. Hmm, not very patient though, are you? I can see you've got a temper on you. Definitely not Hufflepuff. Maybe Ravenclaw? I see great intelligence in you, and you can think on your feet. Ahh, but there's steely determination there too, and a certain disregard for the rules. Cunning girl, cunning. Ohh, you're hard to place, my dear! But…"

The hat paused in its ruminations before shouting out, " SLYTHERIN!"

Taking the Hat off, she placed it back on the stool and walked over to the Slytherin table; they were applauding her, and she smiled at her new housemates before taking an empty seat.

To her joy, both Ophelia and Mariana were put in Slytherin and they took up seats on either side of her. She was a little disappointed to see that Conan was in Gryffindor, but careful peering through diners at the tables showed her that he seemed to be making friends quick enough. She wasn't at all surprised to find that Draco and his cronies were Sorted in to Slytherin, and the infamous Harry Potter was put in Gryffindor.

Meredith's stomach was almost howling with hunger by now, and she wished the Hat would get a move on and finish so that they could eat. It finished its Sorting by putting Blaise Zabini in to Slytherin. Professor McGonagall rolled up her scroll before taking both stool and Hat away.

A tall man stood at the Head Table, a man with a long white beard and white hair. Meredith recognised him from his picture on the Chocolate Frog Trading Cards; this was Professor Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts. Beaming, he opened his arms wide.

" Welcome!" he began. " Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! Before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words. And here they are: Nitwit! Oddment! Tweak! Thank you!"

Meredith laughed along with many other students; clearly, Dumbledore was a man with a sense of humour. Everybody clapped and cheered as he sat back down, and then turned their attention immediately to the tables as they began to magically fill up with every kind of food imaginable. Meredith fancied she could even hear the tables creak slightly under the weight of all that food, and she licked her lips. Her mouth was watering. Desdemona and Randulf were poking their noses out of her pockets, sniffing as interestedly as she was. Dave glided back down to her shoulder.

" Look at all that bloody food," Dave remarked, leaning so far forward he was almost hanging on to the front of her robes. " Feed me, girl, feed me. The meat! Merlin's balls, there's lamb, pork, chicken, sausages, bacon…everything a hungry bird could ask for…"

Meredith chuckled and was reaching for the nearest dish when a stern, disapproving voice sounded behind her.

" It specifically states on your school letter, young lady, that the only familiars students are allowed are cats, owls or toads. No ravens."

Meredith was suddenly very glad that her rats had vanished back in to her pockets as she turned round.

" I'm sorry, miss, but I bought him from the Magical Menagerie…his cage was too small, it would have been cruel to leave him there…he refuses to be parted with me now, miss…" Her voice trailed off as embarrassed colour flooded her cheeks. Their part of the table had fallen silent.

Professor McGonagall was looking down her nose at her. " Be that as it may, but your bird is no owl. Follow me. Your Head of House will decide the matter for you. Come along."

She turned and strode off along the line of tables towards the teachers who were eating and chatting amongst themselves.

" Good luck," Mariana whispered to her. Ophelia gave her a sympathetic look.

Meredith's heart was hammering in her chest. " Surely they won't send you away?" she asked of her bird.

He nibbled her ear affectionately. " Well, the buggers may _try_ to send me away. But they can't _keep_ me away. Wherever you are, I'll always find you."

She took heart from his words as she followed McGonagall. She had stopped in front of one of the teachers, and now she ushered Meredith in front of her.

" This student has flouted the school rules," she began, " by bringing in a raven rather than an owl, or another approved animal. As her Head of House, it is up to you to decide what to do with the creature."

" Thank you, Professor McGonagall," the man replied. Meredith was instantly captivated by his voice and looked up at him. McGonagall made a _hmpf_ noise and stalked back to her seat at the High Table.

The man that sat before her was dressed all in black; his long coat was clearly tailored, with buttons fastening it down the front, at the cuffs and the high collar. A white shirt peeked out at the ends of his sleeves and over his collar.

A black over-robe sat on his shoulders. His black, greasy hair was straight and shoulder length; his dark eyes glittered with cold intelligence as he stared down at her. His skin was pale and sallow and he had a long, hooked nose. But appearances weren't all that important to Meredith – this was clearly a man of great intelligence, and she suspected she could learn a lot from him.

He regarded her for a long moment before he spoke.

" You look remarkably like your mother, you know," he told her eventually. " The same curly brown hair, the same glasses. I was saddened to hear of her death. You'd be a Corrigan, of course – I knew your mother Francesca when she was still a Swain. She was as excellent at Potions as she was at all her other subjects."

Meredith felt a little confused by this change of subject. Shouldn't the man be trying to get rid of Dave?

" Miserable, greasy looking bastard," Dave cawed, and she was very glad that nobody else could understand him. The man's eyes darted to the bird and then back to her.

" I am Professor Severus Snape, head of Slytherin House," he continued. " I also teach Potions. I expect high levels of ability from my students. Why did you not bring an owl as instructed?"

She cleared her throat, trying to ignore the blush that still stained her cheeks.

" Several reasons, sir," she replied in as respectful a tone as she could manage.

" Firstly I didn't want to bring an owl because everybody has one. And besides, the school has plenty of owls that I could use if I need to."

" And secondly, Miss Corrigan?" One eyebrow was raised high.

" I bought him from the Magical Menagerie in Diagon Alley. The witch who runs the place was keeping him in a tiny cage, far too small for him – he could barely stretch his wings, sir."

His mouth thinned in to a disapproving line. " So you felt compelled to rescue him from his plight?"

" Not just that, sir. He's really very intelligent – ravens are even more intelligent than owls-"

Dave interrupted her. " Too bloody right we are! We don't have to hunt for our food-"

" Dave, will you shut _up_!" she cawed back to the bird, her green eyes flashing with anger.

Both of Snape's eyebrows shot up this time with surprise. " You speak Crawspeech!" he remarked. " How extraordinary. I've never come across a person who could speak it…apart from your mother and her sister."

" My cousin Morgana doesn't have it, sir. Just me. She was annoyed when she found she couldn't talk to the birds."

" Sometimes it skips a person," Snape remarked. " Well, that changes things somewhat. Indeed, your bird is rather more intelligent than the common owl, and he will make a reliable message deliverer. Tell me, do they have as foul a tongue as they are rumoured to have?"

Her heart skipped a beat. Did this mean she wouldn't have to send Dave away?

" Worse, sir," she replied. " He uses ever such bad language. I try and ignore him when he swears."

Snape offered her the ghost of a smile.

" Well, I'm sure he will come in very useful to you, Miss Corrigan. You may keep him – _if _you can control him, and _if_ he doesn't interfere with your education or that of your fellow students."

" Could I take his eyeballs, Meredith, please?" Dave begged.

" Thank you, sir!" she answered Snape with enthusiastic relief. " He won't be a bother, I promise! Only – well – do we have anything to do with eyeballs in our classes?"

Snape gave her a measured look. " In some Potions lessons, yes. Why do you ask?"

She gave him a grin. " I'll be sending him out when the eyes come in then, sir," she replied.

Dave swore.

She walked back to the Slytherin table with a spring in her step, grinning from ear to ear.

" What did he say to you?" Ophelia asked.

" He looks ever so mean," Mariana added.

" That's Professor Snape, our Head of House," Meredith replied. " He also teaches Potions – I got the impression that he's really, really smart. He let Dave stay here when he found out that I knew Crawspeech."

" I suppose that shows that he's got _some _heart," Ophelia remarked.

But Mariana was shaking her head. " _My_ mother said he was a heartless bastard," she added.

Meredith smiled as she began to fill her plate.

" Heartless or not, he's still our Head of House, and still our Potions teacher," she told them, raising a laden fork to her mouth. Again her rats were poking their noses out of her pockets.

" Wow, Meredith, you really know how to cheer a girl up," Mariana replied with a laugh.

All that remained after dessert and a painful rendition of the school song was to be shown to their new dormitories. Slytherin's Common Room was located underground; they followed the two Prefects out of the Great Hall and in to the Entrance Hall. From there a short flight of stairs led them to a door; a long corridor on the other side led to a T-junction.

" To the left we have Professor Snape's dungeon classrooms and office," one of the Prefects explained, " and some disused classrooms. To the right is Slytherin's Common Room."

They turned to the right. At the end of another short corridor was a huge painting of a fearsome looking man in rusty, bloodstained armour. He had an axe slung over his shoulder and was carrying a severed head in his other gauntleted hand.

" The Axe Bearer," the Prefect remarked. " And our password this year is full-blood."

At his words, the Axe-Bearer tipped them a nod and the portrait-door swung open. The students filed in behind the Prefects; the older ones threw themselves in to dark green leather chairs or sat at the tables. Greenish lamps were turned on creating a dim, almost murky glow.

" This way, first-years," the Prefect called. There were two Prefects, a girl and a boy, and they split the younger children in to groups and led them off to their dormitories where they were allowed to choose their beds. Predictably, Ophelia and Mariana chose beds on either side of Meredith.

Meredith drifted off to sleep that night more contented than she had been in years. She'd drawn the heavy green curtains around her four-poster bed and had complete privacy now. Dave was perched on the top rail whilst her rats had chosen to colonise the space underneath her bed, using the soft, shredded paper she'd brought with her for them to sleep on until they could find a more sustainable sleeping area. They were sleeping soundly long before she was, their bellies stuffed with food that she'd pocketed at the feast.

Dave was muttering sleepily about eyeballs and Meredith's last thought as she fell asleep was that, at last, she had come home.


	8. Chapter 8

**BOOK THREE**

**CHAPTER ONE**

_And I wouldn't say I couldn't be your lover_

_Not if there was nothing else to be_

_But if love is what you're dying to discover, darling_

_Don't slit your wrists for me_

– _Don't Slit Your Wrists for Me, by the Oysterband_

_Another six years later_

Meredith awoke with a groan that turned in to a rumbling sigh of pleasure as she remembered that it was Saturday – she didn't have to get up at all today, if she didn't want to. It was only the demands of her stomach and her homework that drove her out of bed.

Yawning, she sat up and forced herself out of bed. The Slytherin dormitories were always chilly; situated in the dungeons, deep underneath the Black Lake, the whole area could get painfully cold in winter. This was September – still brisk, but not unpleasantly so. She knew that wouldn't last for long.

A warm little be-whiskered nose poked her ankle; looking down she smiled as she saw Lucas, her boss rat. He and several other rats like him were the result of many generations of very careful breeding at Hogwarts. Her original two pairs – Desdemona and Randulf, and Hestia and Penfold – had decided that they'd liked it underneath her bed and she'd set up permanent homes for them there. They slept in small, empty boxes lined with shredded paper and soft down. A lot of the bedding had come from Derrick at home.

Derrick, the gardener's son, was her co-conspirator in the breeding program. He looked after and monitored her rats back at the family mansion in Hampshire; over the years he had successfully smuggled a large number of rats in and out of Hogwarts. He'd hit on an ingenious idea – Dave, Meredith's raven, carried packages of cakes and biscuits to and from the school. Derrick would carefully cocoon a rat in the box – Meredith didn't mind having to share her cake with a rodent.

And so she'd managed to keep the number of rats she actually kept at Hogwarts to a fairly constant number of four, shipping them in and out as necessary. Lucas was a bright young rat and at a year old he was perhaps the most intelligent thing she'd ever bred. He was a grey hooded, with sparkling black eyes and a cute pink nose that he almost seemed embarrassed to possess…except at those times when he was pressing it against Meredith's ankle. He wanted breakfast, and he wanted it _now_.

" Get your arse off my bed, you lazy bag of feathers," she called to Dave. He was sleeping peacefully on the railings that held up the curtains surrounding her bed, and at her voice he gave a startled caw. His feathers ruffled, and he glared balefully down at her.

" Nice to see you're so bloody cheerful at this time of the morning," he cawed.

" You'd think student life would make you sleep more, but no, little miss insomnia thinks a lie-in ends at eight am."

Meredith grinned as she pulled back the curtain and didn't answer him. Peering around the edges she saw that her friends were still in bed and fast asleep. She wasn't at all surprised. _Normal_ students didn't get out of bed until lunchtime on a Saturday, if they could possibly help it.

Lucas clambered up her quilt and she picked him up, setting him gently on her shoulder; his claws scratched a little on her bare skin, but she was more than used to that by now. She shivered slightly in her thin silk nightie; held up with spaghetti straps, it looked nice but it was damned cold sometimes. She shoved her feet in to slippers and shuffled off out of the dorm and in to the Common Room.

It was deserted at this time of day, which was just how she liked it. She put Lucas down on one of the green cushions; he curled up and went to sleep, obviously realising he wasn't going to get fed yet. She went through a small door next to the girls' dorm and in to their bathroom.

It was huge – it had to be, to accommodate all the Slytherin females. Ranks of toilet cubicles stretched down one side, whilst baths were at the far end and showers were along the other side. The side that she had come in from was mirrored, and there were changing benches and lockers in the middle.

Meredith got her shower gear from her locker and allowed herself a long soak in a hot shower. She took the time to consider all the many things that had happened to the school since she had started; she was seventeen in seven months time but more things had happened to the school and its students than was normal.

Strange things always seemed to happen, and they were always centred on the Potter boy. She'd never mixed with him and his crowd; there seemed to be an unofficial policy amongst the students that Slytherins and Gryffindors were deadly enemies. This bothered her somewhat – she simply made friends, and it didn't matter to her _what_ house they were in.

In their first year the Halloween Feast had been interrupted by an attack from a ravening troll that had been let in to the castle; it later transpired that Professor Quirrell, their Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, was wearing the infamous Lord Voldemort on the back of his head. The Dark Lord had been using him as a host in his ceaseless struggle to get a body back and take his revenge on Harry Potter.

In their second year students had been attacked by a basilisk, and quite aside from feeling scared for her safety Meredith had been wildly excited; she longed to study one (from a reasonable distance and without looking it directly in the eye) but she'd never had the opportunity – its only victims had been a mangy old cat, the Gryffindor ghost, a boy called Colin Creevey – and Hermione Granger. Hermione Granger was one of the very few people in their year that she seriously didn't like, and it always irked her – they were both as smart as each other and were in direct competition for top grades. They often came joint first in classes. Their DADA teacher that year was the famous Gilderoy Lockheart, but Meredith had thought him to be an extremely poor teacher. He was carted off to St. Mungo's at the end of the year after a spell had gone awry and left him permanently Confunded.

The third year had been fun – they'd been allowed to take Care of Magical Creatures, and that was a class that Meredith had long been hoping to take. She was actually rather pleased that the gamekeeper Hagrid had been elevated to Professor-status to take the classes; when he was allowed to he brought in superb creatures for them to study. Even if it did mean picking up a few bites and stings along the way.

But their third year had also seen the escape of the notorious murderer Sirius Black from Azkaban, and very strange events had followed that – a Hippogriff escaping execution, Black being captured and then escaping again. His whereabouts were still unknown, but he was rumoured to be dead. Their DADA teacher for that year had been a werewolf, a nice, practical man who had been forced to resign after his condition became common knowledge.

Year four had been eventful, again for Potter – a rogue Death Eater masquerading as their next DADA teacher, Moody, had entered Potter in for the Triwizard Tournament to manipulate the boy in such a way that Voldemort could finally use him to get his body back.

Year five had been awful for everybody, including the teachers. Dumbledore – the kindest, wisest man she had ever known – had been ousted by an old hag called Umbridge, who'd been working for the Ministry. She'd formed an Inquisitorial Squad determined to root out dissent and rule breaking; many of the people in that Squad had been Slytherins, but she'd stayed as far away from Umbridge as she could. People that stood up to her in any way generally found life extremely unpleasant, so she kept her head down and her mouth closed.

She had, however, taken place in the secret DA meetings Potter had organised. Umbridge had been a grossly incompetent teacher and refused to show any of her class the spells that would be necessary to get them through their OWL's; Potter had felt obliged to start a group to show people how they should do those spells. Meredith had been a part of it until an emergency disbanding (prompted by imminent capture by Umbridge) had forced them to end it.

And now Lord Voldemort had managed to rise from the dead and was walking around in a living body of his own once more! Meredith was deeply interested in the magic that could have allowed such a thing to happen, although she was cautious about expressing such an interest – she knew it was Dark magic, and hence largely frowned upon.

Year Six promised to be an interesting time.

Meredith examined herself in the mirror after her shower, pondering all the little changes she herself had undergone since starting school. She'd grown; she was now a healthy five foot six. Ophelia topped her by two and a half inches, and little Mariana was still little at five foot one – the ratios were still the same.

She'd been told by numerous teachers that she looked more and more like her mother with every passing year, and after having seen pictures of her she could well believe it. Her hair was still on the unruly side of curly and she still had to wear glasses. But the slender figure remained, tempered by easy curves at hip and bust. Boys made a point of looking at her but she ignored them, by and large.

Boys, at the present time, were of an interest to her now. Over the last six months or so Derrick had been paying special attention to her, and she had let him; he'd swiped a few kisses when she in the mood and she'd even let him touch her bottom. But that was as far as she would let things get with him – he was a good six or seven years older than her, and older men didn't have that much appeal for her. And her father would have a fit if he found out she'd been messing around with gardener's son…though it wouldn't be the first time that something like _that_ had happened amongst the pure-blooded wizarding families.

No, Meredith's sights were set much more locally, and were causing her far more problems. Her problem had a name – Conan Kelly, son of an Irish undertaker and the resident roving eye of Gryffindor. They'd become a lot closer during the last five years, and she was beginning to think she might be half in love with him.

And therein lay the first of her problems. He was a Gryffindor and she was a Slytherin. To her this wasn't a problem, but to the rest of both their houses it was. They'd had to sneak around, stealing time and kisses where they could. Conan was enthusiastic in his kisses but there was always a part of her that held back; either because subconsciously she felt she wasn't ready or because she knew that _he_ was busy looking at other girls – she didn't like to admit it to herself. But there was distrust growing between them, a mounting tension that neither of them liked.

Sighing Meredith slipped her glasses up her nose. Those damned glasses! The bane of her life, or so it seemed; spells gone awry and low grade research had knocked her all over the place and broken her glasses on a number of occasions. She'd known the spell to repair them even before she'd started at Hogwarts, but it would better if she didn't have to rely on them in the first place.

And in a few days time, she wouldn't have to. She'd finally managed to find a wizarding company that sold contact lenses! It was rumoured that Ocular and Convex had filched the idea from muggles and adapted it to suit wizards; whatever the truth of it, Meredith didn't particularly care. The important thing was that they worked!

She'd ordered six pairs on a trial basis. They had to be taken out each night and cleaned. Each pair lasted a week, and they were magically enhanced so that the pupils and irises could look like whatever the customer desired. She could change her eye colour one day, or have cat eyes the next. It was an intriguing idea.

" Stop all this useless frigging introspection and get me some breakfast," Dave cawed from behind her, and she frowned with annoyance.

" Dave!" she snapped. " How many times have I told you not to come in to the girls' bathroom? What if I'd been naked?" As it happened, she wasn't; dressed in her usual skirt and blouse she looked perfectly respectable.

Dave rolled his big black eyes from his perch atop the nearest shower cubicle.

" Listen, lady, I've seen you naked before, and there's nothing special there for a bird," he replied. " You're scrawny, you've got no feathers and, oh yes, you're a bloody human! Stupid wench."

She grinned. " Just remember who saved you from the Magical Menagerie," she chuckled, pulling the strap of her book bag over her head and laying it on her shoulder. She was heading for an early morning rendezvous down by the lake after breakfast.

" Oh yeah, you would have to keep bringing that up," Dave grumbled. Smiling, she went down to breakfast.

Conan was already waiting down by the lake when she arrived. He'd shot right up over the last few years and now loomed a good four inches over her.

His hands were shoved deep in to his pockets and there was a moody expression on his face.

" Hi!" she greeted him, forcing an enthusiastic smile on her face. It died rapidly in the glare of his moody look. " What's the matter?" she asked, laying a tentative hand on his arm.

He took a deep sigh and when he was done, the moodiness was gone.

" Ah, nothing I can't handle," he replied, taking hold of her waist and pulling her closer to him. " Just my house mates spouting off their mouths."

" Over us?" she asked him. " We're not exactly an approved couple, you know."

His lips twisted in to a not completely humorous smile. " Tell me something I don't know," he groaned. Seeing the look of irritation flitting across her face, he decided to change it with a kiss. All her objections over his rudeness melted away as he thoroughly reminded her why they were compatible, house differences or no. She grinned and kissed him back.


	9. Chapter 9

**CHAPTER TWO**

They dare not spend more than an hour together or risk being spotted as students got up and began to move around the castle and grounds. They parted a short time later, the taste of Conan's kiss still lingering on her lips and a distinct spring in her step.

Today was a day for homework, not that she had much to do; term had kicked in a week ago but right from the beginning she'd made it her policy to do her homework as soon as she could. She hadn't gained Outstanding grades in her OWL's for nothing!

Sixth year was the beginning of NEWT's for Hogwarts students. Teachers stipulated before hand what the entrance requirements were for their chosen NEWT subject; some teachers set their standards very high. You were allowed to take as many NEWTS' as you liked providing you met the entrance requirements.

Predictably Meredith had the necessary grades to take anything she wanted. Typically students took no more than four or five NEWT level classes, due to time constraints, so she had had to sit down with Professor Snape – her Head of House – and thoroughly discuss her career options with him.

She still held fast to the dream she'd always had – to create a centre for magical research – and Snape told her that she would need a good, thorough grounding in as many subjects as she could get unless she wished to specialise in one particular branch of research. She'd gone for the former option and they'd settled on her taking NEWT level Arithmancy, Ancient Runes, Charms, Care of Magical Creatures, History of Magic, Defence Against the Dark Arts, Potions, Herbology and Transfiguration. She was warned that nine NEWT's would be a serious struggle but she relished the challenge; she was regretful that she'd had to drop Astronomy, Divination and Muggle Studies – she still had so much that she wanted to learn, but she also realised that she could take up correspondence courses in these subjects after she'd left Hogwarts if she wanted to. And she definitely wanted to!

There were a few staff changes at Hogwarts that year; Professor Snape had got the position he'd always wanted – Defence Against the Dark Arts – and their new Potions Master was a man called Horace Slughorn; the man was short and bald, with an enormous walrus-like moustache. She didn't like him much. On the train ride to school he'd invited her and several other 'rising stars' to a little private party, and she suspected he might be keen to play the favouritism game. But she was willing to give him a chance as a teacher; he'd taught at Hogwarts before and had apparently been talked out of retirement by Dumbledore.

The atmosphere this year was a little tense, and for good reason – Voldemort was still said to be at large. Muggles and wizards alike were being killed or made to disappear, and people were scared. Meredith knew that Hogwarts was a relatively safe place, however, and she didn't intend to let a Dark Wizard ruin her study.

She was able to spend a little longer with Conan on Sunday, but he still had an edgy, ill at ease look to him that was putting her on edge, too. They had a brief row about her opinion of his friends before they parted; she didn't like leaving him on bad terms but sometimes he just made her so angry! She knew perfectly well what her temper was like. Five years of mingling with other people her age had brought the beast right out of its cage, and it seemed that these days the slightest little thing would set it off. She liked to go somewhere private when she was really angry; lately she'd discovered she had a nasty knack of making objects fly around the room when she was in that kind of mood. In the worst cases they became missiles, and she preferred to be in an empty room or, preferably, outside when her fragile temper finally snapped.

Monday dawned bright but cold. Sitting through her lessons she drank up the information with her usual vigour; through reading around the subject she already knew a huge amount of the core syllabus for each lesson.

The weather clouded over during the afternoon, when she had a free period (which she spent doing the bulk of her homework) and by teatime it was raining. Some of the students that gathered in the Great Hall were bedraggled and some (notably the Quidditch players) were muddy as well.

She'd often wondered what sort of Quidditch player she might make. She had always fancied the position of Beater, if only to try and work out some of her temper, but she knew she'd never be able to play – during the first-years flying lessons she discovered she had an almost paralysing fear of heights and had dropped the subject as quickly as she could without offending Madam Hooch.

When they were all assembled in the Hall, McGonagall came in through the same door that she brought first-years in through every year; in her wake she led a tall, slender girl with long, straight blonde hair and bright blue eyes. Meredith was quick to notice that every male student eye in the room instantly turned to the new girl, and her lips thinned in to a disapproving frown. Her contact lenses were very powerful, giving her perfect vision, but some things one didn't want to see!

Dumbledore rose, and clapped his hands together once for silence. It fell instantly.

" Ladies and gentlemen," he began, " This young lady is Miss Nola Nelson, an American girl who has been transferred to us from St. Benedictus' School of Witchcraft in Massachusetts. As some of you may know it is an all-girls school, and her parents felt that she might do well with us at Hogwarts. Professor McGonagall, the Sorting Hat, if you please."

Whispered conversations began as McGonagall brought in the Sorting Hat and the stool upon which Nola was to sit. It was rare for students to transfer from one school to another, although it did happen; sometimes parents moved or even died, and legal guardians might live in another country. Meredith had heard of St. Benedictus'. It was rumoured to be an extremely strict school.

Her lips thinned even further as she looked across the Slytherin table to Conan. His eyes were fixed firmly on the new girl, and he was licking his lips – perhaps imagining what his chat up lines would be! She shook her head in disgust and took a huge bite of her sausage.

There were a few moments of silence as the Sorting Hat was placed on Nola's head.

" Ravenclaw!" it called out decisively; Ravenclaw's table let out a loud cheering as McGonagall ushered the new girl over to it. A space was cleared for her instantly.

Meredith scowled as Nola was introduced to the Ravenclaw Prefects. As a Prefect herself this year, she knew that Nola would be looked after for a few weeks until she managed to find her feet in the school.

" Cat got your tongue?" Dave cawed to her from his customary spot on her shoulder. He was looking hopefully at the final bite of sausage on her fork. " Not like you not to comment on a new girl. We've never had a bloody student from _America_."

" No, the cat has not got my tongue," she replied forcefully, " but it'll get yours in a minute! Don't ever talk to me about that – girl. I bet she's a slut, anyway."

She was always glad that nobody else in the whole school knew Crawspeech. It meant that she could have truly private conversations right out in public, and nobody was any the wiser.

Dave let out a screech of harsh corvid laughter and she glared at him.

The noise was enough to draw the attention of some of her closest dining companions; Ophelia and Mariana were in their normal seats on either side of her, and there were three boys sitting opposite her. They weren't her friends, exactly; more like they were the sort of people one had a horrified fascination for – rather like a moth drawn to a flame.

Augustus Cane sat directly opposite her, and was a tall, thin boy with an untidy mop of sandy blonde hair. He had liquid brown eyes and an opinion of everything that he liked to share with whoever would listen – at full volume. His strength was Transfiguration, and he generally came in just behind Meredith and Hermione Granger in that subject.

On Gus's left was a short, squat boy with thick dark hair and sloe-like eyes; he had a ruddy complexion and liked to spend as much time as possible outdoors, either in the greenhouses or in one of the many secret locations he had set up around the grounds. He was a master of Herbology and was very nearly as good at it as Meredith; she suspected the only reason why he didn't overtake the two brightest girls in the school was because he spent more time researching illegal plants and their uses than focussing on the set subjects. Perry Conrad was a furtive boy and had many secrets; Meredith knew for a fact that he had at least one still out in the grounds somewhere and was selling firewhisky to the seventh years. It was her duty as a Prefect to report him, but she'd promised not to so long as he agreed to give _her_ a supply of the potent alcohol! She also had it on good authority that he was growing pot in one of the disused greenhouses and was supplying it to fifth and seventh years to cope with exam stress. She had yet to verify this fact.

The boy on Gus's right was Victor Beckman, and she didn't like him very much. In her opinion he was a filthy pervert; he'd spent much of his time trying to find a way to get past the enchantments that kept boys out of the girls dorms' and bathrooms – he kept up a fairly constant stream of dirty jokes and he always had a quick answer for everything. He was adept at Charms.

These boys constituted the Unholy Trio, and they were a menace to the student and teacher society alike. Singly they were ok; in pairs, barely acceptable, but when they were all together as they were now they were completely unbearable. Perry was well known for singing to himself and others at fairly constant intervals, and all three of them had a habit of making weird animal noises. No threats had any effect on them; detentions and loss of house points went over their heads. They were made to sit as far apart as was possible during their classes.

" She's a right cracker," Victor was saying now, turning his attention away from Nola and back to his companions.

" I hope she pulls my cracker," Perry grinned, eliciting a guttural laugh from the others. Meredith rolled her eyes.

" What sort of toys do you get out of _your_ cracker?" Gus asked with a grin, his eyes wide and amused.

" Mm, lovely treats for the girls," Perry replied in a mock-suave tone that had Meredith trying to suppress a grin.

" You're wasting your time fantasising about that new girl," Meredith broke in.

" She's in Ravenclaw – she'll never go out with a Slytherin, especially a pervert Slytherin." Her eyes lingered on Victor and then Perry.

" Ahh, but if we get in there quick they won't have had time to tell her that Slytherin's full of bad boys," Gus told her.

Meredith arched her eyebrows. " Be that as it may, there are bad boys and then there are bad boys. You lot don't even rate bad – you're just awful."

" But loveable with it!" Victor chimed in with a bright, cheesy grin.

" I bet that bloody girl's making herself loveable," Meredith growled under her breath. Nola was deep in conversation with some of the Ravenclaw boys.

" P'raps she's a lesbian," Victor told them thoughtfully, rubbing at the stubble on his chin. " You'd be in with a chance yourself then."

Meredith shot them a furious look. " I am _not_ a lesbian!" she hissed back angrily.

" Either that or you're having it off with our dear beloved Dark Arts Professor," Gus laughed. " You've always been very chummy with _him_."

" That's because I'm one of the few idiots in this place that gets my homework in on time," she replied in an icily cold tone of voice.

But Perry was shaking his head. " Nope, not good enough. You're either a lesbian or you're sleeping with Snape. Otherwise you'd share yourself with the poor and needy of this group – namely us."

Meredith threw her hands up in resigned irritation. " Alright! Ok! So I'm a lesbian _and_ I'm banging Snape! Happy now? Because the day I ever sleep with one of you is the day I loose all of my senses!"

" Oooh, feisty," Perry grinned.

Meredith rolled her eyes and ignored them, settling back down to her dinner.

She kept a close, suspicious eye on the new girl over the next few days, and kept chiding herself for her uncharitable thoughts. Maybe she should give Nola a chance. She only shared a few classes with her, but from what she'd seen she seemed to be an intelligent girl – if a little head strong. And with beautiful hair. It was long, falling mid-way down her back, and hung half way over one of those wide blue eyes. Why couldn't her hair ever behave like that? There was an innocence about her that Meredith just couldn't believe, especially considering the way she was beginning to play the Ravenclaw boys off against each other.

Meredith started asking questions about her, discreetly questioning other students until she began to pick up interesting snippets of information. St. Benedictus' was a school for bad girls, young witches who needed discipline – but Nola looked as if butter wouldn't melt in her mouth. Meredith wasn't having any of it; her naturally suspicious nature wouldn't allow it.

The word in the corridors was that Nola had somehow contrived to strike up an affair with a vampire, of all people. Her parents had done their best to separate the two but had decided eventually that only a change of school and continent would keep them apart. There were also darker, quieter rumours of her having some sort of involvement with demons but she didn't hold much faith in those rumours.

Dave offered her another piece of information during the middle of the week that sent her temper rocketing – Nola Nelson also knew Crawspeech, being born with the ability as she had, _and_ she was receiving semi-regular visits from a crow called Naktis! More worrying, however, was that Nola seemed to know that Meredith was prying in to her past; Dave told her the blonde girl had been asking about her, too, and Conan as well! Her lip curled with contempt now whenever she thought about Nosy Nelson. If she came _near_ her…her…she hesitated to use the word boyfriend, but still…if she came near him, Nola would regret it.

Saturday came around again, and Meredith was due to have another early morning meeting with Conan by their spot by the lake. The day had dawned cold and overcast, and it threatened to rain later on, so their time was precious.

She walked at a brisk pace down to the lake, her skirt flapping out behind her in the brisk breeze that had suddenly sprung up. Her curls kept getting in her face and she pushed them away with an irritated hand.

A row of trees shielded the path from the lake, and she slowed to a halt as she reached them. She could see figures through the trees – one she would recognise anywhere, the tall, athletic figure of Conan. And what was he doing? Did – did he have his arms around another person? Her pace slowed to a stop and her eyes narrowed as a lump formed in her throat. That was a flash of long, blonde hair. She heard the distinct sounds of an American accent.

Her heart pounded in her chest, and she fancied she could feel it pulsing behind her eyes as well. Her hands clenched in to fists around handfuls of her skirt and she had to force herself to let go, had to force herself to sneak behind one of the nearest trees and keep herself quiet.

" Nola, you know you're special to me," Conan was saying in his soft Irish voice.

" But I have to be careful still – Meredith doesn't know about us, and she can't yet. She'll go ballistic if she ever finds out, and trust me, you don't want that girl's temper coming down on your head."

Nola raised her hateful face and kissed him, smiling.

" Don't worry about her," she purred. " I've faced much worse things than some spoilt little rich kid, worried she's loosing her grip. It can't have been that secure in the first place or I wouldn't be here."

Meredith ground her teeth. Damn the girl, but she did have a point – things had been coming between them for some time now, and there had always been an on-again off-again feel to their relationship.

Conan leaned Nola back and kissed her enthusiastically; her hair hung artistically down, gleaming in the scant morning sunlight. Meredith's hair never did that.

" What time is it?" Conan asked eventually, breaking their kiss. He looked dazed and more than a little flushed.

" Who cares?" Nola drawled. Meredith's hand curled around the wand in her pocket. She forced herself to let it go, fearing that she might snap it with a newfound angry strength. " There's nobody out here to see us," the American added.

Conan looked a touch worried now. " Yeah, but I normally spend Saturday mornings by the lake with Meredith," he replied hesitantly. " She'll probably be here soon. I don't want her to run in to you."

Nola sighed. " I wish you'd just break things off with her," she told him. " You said to me yourself, Slytherin and Gryffindor don't mix. Ravenclaw and Gryffindor, however, is a much more acceptable match…" Giggling, she gave him one last brief kiss, trailed her hand suggestively down his chest, and walked away.

Conan stuck his hands back in his pockets after she had left, in the manner that Meredith had become so accustomed to. Her hand closed around her wand again and she had actually drawn it, ready to hex him in to oblivion, before a tiny rational voice in her brain made her stop and jam it back inside one of her many skirt pockets.

She was going to have it out with Conan, once and for all. She'd seen the truth. She knew he wasn't loyal to her – Merlin's balls, she doubted he ever had been. He'd been playing her along!

Taking a deep breath she pushed past the tree that had concealed her and came out behind Conan.

" I always knew there was something I didn't like about that new girl," she remarked in a forcibly calm voice. " And now I know what it was – she'd been knocking off my boyfriend."

Conan whirled around, looking both startled and alarmed. She put her hands on her hips and glared at him, fire flashing in her green eyes.

" Meredith! I can explain…" he began lamely. He took a few steps towards her, arms outstretched.

" I saw you kissing her! I heard her telling you to dump me!" she shot back straight away, taking a few steps back. " How many other girls have you been seeing on the sly? How many times have you played me behind my back?"

" It's not like that! I've only just started seeing her…"

He seemed to realise that this was entirely the wrong thing to say, and tried to rectify it.

" Look, Meredith, you know you're the only girl for me."

She snorted, aware that tears were beginning to gleam in her eyes.

" And how many girls have you tried that line on, you heartless bastard?"

" Be reasonable! What am I supposed to do, when you won't let me get inside your skirt?"

She was stunned in to complete speechlessness for a few seconds. When she spoke again, her voice was full of disbelief.

" Is that what this is all about?" she asked him, the tears welling larger. " The fact that I won't let you sleep with me? The fact that I still have a few morals left? The fact that we're _still on school grounds_?"

He shoved his hands back in to his pockets and turned away, but she saw the guilty expression on his face before he had time to hide it. Her heart broke.

" You sicken me," she told him, her voice soft and full of tears. " You're just right for little Miss Nosy – if she'd stoop to screwing a vampire, she obviously doesn't set her sights very high."

" Now wait just a goddammed minute!" he called as she turned and began to walk away. He caught her arm and whirled her around. " What about your sights, you stupid girl? Did you set yours high when you flirted with me that first time? Or do you enjoy slumming it with a less wealthy boy?" he growled angrily, glaring down in to her face.

She frowned at him. " My family's wealth has nothing to do with this!" she replied, shocked. " How could you think it would? I'm not that shallow, Conan, I thought you knew that!"

" I know that I still think you're beautiful," he told her softly, his brown eyes locked on hers. " A dark beauty, aloof, untouchable…but you let _me_ touch you…" The hand on her arm slid higher, joined by his other hand on her free arm; he leaned down and kissed her. It was a soft, lingering kiss that virtually melted her in her boots; never before had he been this gentle, this tender.

But the sight of him doing the same thing to Nola kept flashing in her brain and she wrenched herself away with an angry snarl.

" Get your hands off me," she hissed.

" Meredith, baby, we could still be good for each other," he cajoled, trying to kiss her again. His hands slid up higher until they clenched her shoulders.

" Get off me!" she yelled, all composure gone now – she just wanted to get away from him! He'd had his hands on Nola, on another girl, had said sweet words to her, and expected her to forget it!

His eyes flashed with anger. " Stupid little bitch," he hissed. His hands shot up to her neck, closing around it, squeezing…

Her eyes opened wide with confused panic as her hands closed around his wrists, struggling to push him away. He was strangling her…! Whimpering, she pushed harder, real panic in her expression now.

Some of that panic must have got through to him because he let her go as if he'd been burned, taking great big steps away from her. She'd always known he had a volatile Irish temper, but to do this? It was unthinkable…and yet it had happened.

Her hand went up to her throat. Rubbing it gently, gasping for breath, she stumbled backwards and away from him.

" Meredith, please, let's talk about this…"

" Go to hell!" she shouted at him. She turned on her heel and ran away.


	10. Chapter 10

**CHAPTER THREE**

She couldn't go back to the Slytherin dorms yet – people would just be starting to get up, and people were the very last things she could face right now. She desperately needed to be alone!

She let out her stride and just – ran. She didn't pay much attention to where she was going, but she let herself slow to a walk when the breath began to tear at her throat.

Stopping, she touched tentative fingers to her neck and winced. It already felt bruised. Madam Pomfrey could heal it, but there was no way she was going to the Hogwarts Healer – she'd want to know who had tried to strangle her, and why, and before she knew it the whole sorry story would be all over school. As it was she suspected that their break-up would be common knowledge by lunchtime. She might hate Conan right now, but she didn't particularly want him to get in trouble. His temper was as volatile as hers was – they were both liable to do violent things when they were angry.

She understood him, but that didn't mean she could ever forgive him. He'd used her, and had always been using her for all she knew. She'd never trust him again. In a way she was glad it was over – at least now she could move on with her life without the constant feeling of not knowing how things stood between them.

Sighing, she wiped her eyes dry and finally took a look around at where her flying feet had taken her. She was surprised to find that she was in the outskirts of the Forbidden Forest; delight that she might see a magical creature was tempered by a fear that she might get caught by a teacher.

She took a moment to get her head back together. She'd need her wits to get out of the Forest without getting lost, and she didn't need Conan messing up her concentration any more than it already was. There were forces both friendly and unfriendly in the Forest.

It was still relatively early in the morning, no more than about half past eight, and many creatures wouldn't be up and about yet. This part of the Forest looked vaguely familiar – she was sure that if she kept going in _that_ direction, she would find the path that led out. Hopeful, she set off, hitching up her long skirt so that it didn't catch in the bushes.

Sure enough, a few minutes later, the bushes and brambles gave way to a narrow dirt path. She'd been in the Forest several times in her Care of Magical Creatures class, still taken by Professor Hagrid. The half-giant may not have been the most brilliant of teachers but he certainly showed them some great creatures – she'd seen thestrals and all sorts.

It was gloomy underneath the trees, and cold. She kept her head down and kept walking…so it was with great surprise that she caught a flash of purest white out of the corner of her eyes!

She whipped her head up so fast her neck almost clicked. Standing in her way right in the middle of the path was a beautiful white unicorn, her ridged horn rising some two feet out from her delicate skull. Meredith's breath froze with amazement as her lips curved in to a smile.

The unicorn truly was beautiful. Her smooth fur shone almost blindingly white in the gloom, and her large black eyes were like pools of liquid. Her mane lay smoothly down her elegant neck; her tail swished lazily from side to side. The movement of her tail drew Meredith's attention to her golden hooves…and to the tiny golden foal that nestled shyly against her side. He hadn't grown a horn yet, which meant he was still under two, and he was so beautiful he made her heart ache. All her troubles with Conan and Nola faded away as she drank in the beauty of the unicorns.

Somewhere in the distance a bird called – a songbird, as it was a light, delicate tune. The mother unicorn regarded her, her head raised a fraction, and then she snorted. Meredith gently let her breath out, remembering that she needed oxygen or she would faint.

Unicorns were rare, magical creatures, and were very hard to catch. Not that Meredith would ever want to capture an animal as lovely as this; they belonged in the wild. They'd studied them a few years ago and had been told they favoured girls. What they hadn't been told, and had had to discover for themselves through personal research (for those inclined to do it) was that unicorns favoured girls because they liked the purity of virgins.

So Meredith stood where she was, her eyes open wide with pleasure. The mare took a few steps forward, the little golden foal still close by her side. Slowly she raised her hand, very slowly…and then the mare butted her hand.

Her fur was so soft…Meredith gently caressed the velvety nose before letting her hand drop once more to her side. She felt honoured.

She stepped off the path to allow the unicorn and her foal to pass unhindered. With one last soft whinny the female walked on, her long tail still swishing, and the foal trotted after her.

She stood where she was for several long seconds, lost in the glow of the memory. Nosy Nelson may have slept with a vampire but she, Meredith Corrigan, had touched a nursing unicorn!

" Tis strange that a human foal should wander in to our Forest," came a male voice from further up the path. Again her head flew up, and again she was reminded of how sore her neck was. She looked up, and up further…and her mouth became suddenly dry. Blocking her path were two huge black centaurs. Their arms were folded across their massive chests.

" And stranger still that a pure Forest Lady should show herself to you," added the second centaur. " A unicorn and her young, no less."

Cheeks blushing red, Meredith finally managed to find her tongue again.

" It – it was a privilege to meet them, sir," she replied respectfully. Today was a day of wonders, it would seem! Meeting a unicorn and her foal, _and_ talking to two centaurs!

" We were looking for you," the first continued. He seemed to be older than the second centaur – perhaps they were father and son.

" Looking – for me?" she asked, surprised. She hadn't told anyone she was coming to the Forest; she hadn't known herself until she'd run there after the flaming row with Conan. " But – how?" she stammered. " I mean-"

" The ways of centaurs are not the ways of humans," the younger one interrupted her. " We have ways of knowing that you cannot comprehend. We see things in the movement of the stars, in the direction of the wind…in the drift of the leaves as they fall from the trees."

Meredith had to stop herself grinning – she loved centaurs, but had never had the opportunity to speak to one. They were mysterious, mystic creatures with a view of the world that was far longer than mere humans could ever possibly hope to have.

" What have you seen in the stars, sir?"

" Many things," the elder replied.

" Strange things," the younger added.

" There will be change, in times to come…a new world order…"

She looked at them suspiciously. " Is this to do with Voldemort?"

The elder centaur looked down his patrician nose at her.

" Those who must know of those events have already been informed," he told her in a regal tone, and she got the impression she had insulted him somehow. So, it wasn't about Voldemort. What did they have to tell her? She looked at them enquiringly.

" Beware a time of ice," the elder continued.

" A time of snow, of frozen rain and howling gales."

" You will see the essence of the thing, not the thing itself."

" A heart of fire may defeat a soul of ice. Love conquers death."

The two centaurs cleared their throats, and the younger one peered up through the shifting trees at the sky above.

" Looks like it'll rain this afternoon."

" Hmm, yes. We'd best get back – my fetlocks kill me when it rains. You know how the cold gets in to my joints."

They turned around on the path and made as if to go, but Meredith ran after them a little way.

" Excuse me!" she called. The younger centaur stopped and turned around.

" Yes?"

" Could you – well, could you explain what you just meant? Was that a prophecy, or a warning? What does it _mean_?"

" That is for you to decide, human foal," he told her solemnly. " We see only the motion of the stars and the planets, and the endless track of seasons."

Her heart sank a little. " So you don't know what it means?"

He merely tossed his tail and trotted off down the path.

When she finally returned to the Slytherin Common Room later that morning, her mind was whirling. What could the centaurs possibly mean? Of course there would be a new world order – nothing lasted forever, and change was inevitable. A time of ice…her mind whirled as she considered what the possible implications of that might be. An impending snowstorm? She doubted the centaurs would warn her about some bad weather. Unless…unless it was a seriously bad snowstorm. She'd read about past Ice Ages in many different books, both muggle and magical, and she knew that frozen ages were cyclical. Perhaps they were due to have another Ice Age soon?

But what could one person do to stop something like that – and should they even try? After all, it was a natural occurrence. And certainly, there was little that somebody like her could do; she wasn't even seventeen yet. Professor Dumbledore would have been a much better choice to give the warning to. So the question remained – why her? What did the prophecy, if that was what it was, mean?

Ophelia and Mariana were sitting in front of the fireplace, chatting amiably to one another. One look at her face had them both up and out of their seats.

" Meredith, you look like – what _do_ you look like?" Ophelia began, shocked.

" And where have you been?" Mariana added. " That stupid Gryffindork Conan was looking for you in the Great Hall. We told him we hadn't seen you."

Meredith sank down in to the nearest seat, warming her hands before the fire.

" It's been an odd kind of morning," she told them, gazing in to the heart of the fire as if mesmerised.

" Merry, spill, we're worried about you," Ophelia demanded.

Finally Meredith looked towards them and away from the fire.

" Well, first things first. I – I broke up with Conan." As far as she knew, her two friends were the only other Slytherins who knew she'd been seeing the garrulous, feisty Irish boy.

Mariana raised one dark brow. " Well, I can't say I'm exactly disappointed," she replied. " We've been telling you for years that he's trouble."

Ophelia nudged the darker girl and glared at her.

" Tact was never one of Mariana's strong points," she said pointedly. " We're sorry you broke up with him. Which of the many possible reasons was the cause of this?"

Strangely enough, the joy of seeing the unicorns had defeated any pain she might have felt at the split with the Gryffindor. She could smile at her friends now the dull ache was gone.

" I was due to meet him by the lake," she told them. " We often met there on a Saturday morning, if we could. I got there early – couldn't sleep." She shrugged. That part was no surprise – her sleep was still as limited as ever.

" He was there with the new girl, and she was all over him."

" Nola Nelson?" Ophelia asked.

" That girl from Ravenclaw?" Mariana added. " I knew she was rotten the moment I set eyes on her," she continued, defending her friend now.

" In a way she did me a favour," Meredith said. " I always knew Conan had wandering eyes, but I didn't like to admit it. And the whole Slytherin-Gryffindor thing…it wouldn't have worked out in the long run anyway. The cracks were already starting to show. We kept having little rows, just stupid spats about nothing. So, the bitch has done me a favour, but I'll never tell her that."

" I'll tell you what," Ophelia said, " you need to come in to Hogsmeade with us, on the next visit. We'll ply you with chocolate. That'll cheer you up."

" But I'm not miserable," Meredith replied. " No, really, I'm not," she added at their disbelieving looks. " I needed some space to think and I ended up in the outskirts of the Forbidden Forest, and you'll _never_ guess what I saw."

" Tell us," they clamoured straight away. Neither of them had the courage to go in there any more than they had to; they'd both dropped Care of Magical Creatures just as soon as they could, but their fascination with the unknown and the dangerous was still very much alive.

" I saw a unicorn," she told them on a soft whisper of delight. " A nursing unicorn and her foal…he was completely golden, and he shone…she let me touch her nose!"

" Bloody hell!"

" A unicorn? And she let you _touch_ her? Then that means that you're a…"

" Yes, yes, I'm still a virgin," Meredith admitted impatiently. " Not that it matters. But after they'd gone, I ran in to two centaurs, and they gave me the weirdest prophecy. At least, I think it was a prophecy."

" You'd better watch yourself, Corrigan, you're starting to sound like Harry Potter now," Ophelia remarked with a grin. " Seeing magical beasts and talking to centaurs. Sure you haven't got any curse-scars on you? Maybe one on that fat behind of yours?" she teased lightly.

Meredith laughed and mock-punched her friend.

" No, you idiot, I don't," she replied.

" So what did they tell you?" Mariana broke in impatiently.

Meredith recounted what they'd said as best she could remember, and when she was done, they all sat in thoughtful silence.

" Centaurs come up with prophecies all the time," Ophelia said after a while, breaking the silence. " What I don't get is why they would say it to _you_. I mean, so far the only member of the student body who's really had anything to do with centaurs has been that Potter boy, and we all know he's destined to kill Voldemort or something."

Mariana winced at her friend's use of the Dark Lord's name, but she didn't chastise her.

" Did you ask if it was anything to do with He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named?" the dark-haired girl asked on a whisper.

" Yep. I don't think it's anything to do with him – the centaurs said that the people who needed to know about Voldemort have already been informed." Meredith looked thoughtful for a moment. " I just remembered. They said they'd been looking specifically for me." She sighed. " I don't know what this all means. Perhaps I cause the next Ice Age because of my frigid refusal to have sex with Conan Kelly," she ended glumly.

Her friends immediately rushed to dissuade her of that notion; Conan was a worthless Gryffindork, they told her, and not worthy of her time.


	11. Chapter 11

**CHAPTER FOUR**

Student life continued on at the same pace as it always did for the sixth years. Meredith's lessons were still full – full to the point where most students in her shoes would have dropped at least two courses, if not three – but Meredith loved the hectic pace. She didn't have any problems keeping on top of her work, and all her teachers had very high hopes for her. It was rumoured amongst the students that she was taking even more NEWT's than Hermione Granger, though this was something that neither of them would publicly admit to. Only they and the teachers knew the truth of it.

A fortnight after Meredith had caught Conan with Nosy Nelson, she was sitting in her customary seat in the Library – she had a free period, and it was warm and quiet in there. Most students preferred to do their homework in their own Common Rooms, but to Meredith, nothing could beat the calm atmosphere of the Library.

She was staring moodily out of the window when a dark shape swooped down out of the sky and landed on the windowsill. She didn't see it; her gaze was directed inwards, towards the last conversation she and Conan had ever had. Although they'd seen each other in the corridors and shared plenty of lessons together, she'd refused to speak to him at all, even though he'd made a concerted effort to get her to talk. She didn't have anything nice to say to him, so she said nothing at all.

The dark sharp on the sill rapped its hard beak on the window, startling Meredith out of her thoughts. Noticing that Dave was perched outside, she got up and opened the window to let him in, ever mindful that Madam Pince – the Head Librarian – often patrolled the hallowed stacks. She wouldn't take kindly to the presence of a bird in her Library.

Dave hopped over the sill and glided down to the table, peering up at her with curious black eyes. She saw less and less of the raven these days. In previous years he had always returned to her by teatime so that he could get in to the Slytherin dorms and roost above her bed (it was situated deep under the lake, and had no windows at all). But in the last year or so he'd started spending nights away from her, and sometimes whole days as well. She worried that he might be thinking about leaving her (she knew the recent split with Conan had prompted this thought), flying off to a new owner or just to freedom.

" Why the long face?" he asked her, his caw a little gentler than it normally was. He'd been happy that she and Conan were no longer seeing each other – though he'd had an initial favourable reaction to the Gryffindor, that favour had soured and now he disliked him intensely. He made a point of insulting the boy every time he saw him. Meredith refused to translate what he said, but Conan didn't need an interpreter to know that Dave was questioning his heredity and parentage.

Meredith sighed. " Oh, just thinking about Conan, as usual," she replied. " And telling myself I shouldn't be thinking about him. And then feeling guilty that I'm telling myself not to think about him, when I know I should be…" She rolled her eyes at her own stupidity. " It's a human thing, I think."

" Ah, well, talking of human things…" Dave began, his tone of voice even shiftier than it normally was. He took a few sidling steps away from her, ruffled his wing feathers and then spoke again. " I've got something to tell you. Something to show you, as well."

" Oh? What's that?" she asked, brightening up a little. Dave seemed uncomfortable about something, but Meredith was more than willing to talk to him about it – anything to take her mind off a certain Gryffindor.

" You can come in now," Dave called to something outside the still open window. Another large black shape flew in and landed on the table with all the grace and agility of a dying whale. When it finished picking itself up and spitting out curses, it ruffled its feathers in to place and regarded her with keen black eyes. It was another raven.

" Meredith, this is Bartholomew," Dave introduced the other bird in a pained tone of voice. " My – son."

Meredith smiled broadly. She didn't know that Dave had a family!

" Pleased to meet you, Bartholomew," she replied, holding out her hand. He hopped up on to it, nearly tripping over his own feet in the process. He was clearly rather clumsy, but her heart went out to the bird straight away.

" You can call me Bart," he croaked.

" Bart!" Dave cawed. " Have a little respect for your future owner! You bloody well call her miss!"

Bart ducked his head in what she took to be a gesture of avian embarrassment.

" Sorry, dad. Sorry, miss."

Meredith looked down at Dave as she shut the window. " You never told me you had a family," she remarked.

" I met a delightful lady raven last spring," Dave replied, trying not to look shifty and failing abysmally. " We hit it off…bloody filthy mind on her, that bird, filthy mind…and, well, one thing led to another…"

But Meredith was grinning. " That's fantastic, Dave, I bet you're so proud! How many other children do you have? And will I get to meet your mate?"

" Four fledglings, just four this year. Other three were bloody girls; they flew the nest weeks before this little ingrate. Anyway, I'm training him up to work for you, just like me. "

Meredith was touched. " Thank you so much, Dave, that's really very kind. And I suppose one raven looks very much like another to an untrained eye – I was nearly in trouble for bringing your father instead of an owl," she told Bart in a conspiratorial whisper. " So long as you're not seen together, I should be ok." She smiled down at her birds.

Dave was looking at her closely now. " I had an idea about what you should do with young Conan," he told her now.

" Yes?" she asked curiously, letting Bart flap like a drunken eagle up on to the nearest bookcase.

" Yeah, and a bloody good idea it was too. I think you should hex him."

Meredith pursed her lips. " Don't think the idea didn't occur to me – I may have even threatened to curse him at the time," she replied. " But it wouldn't be right. Hexes should only be used on bad people."

" But what's a bad person, when you think about it, other than somebody that does something that you don't like? Voldemort's a bad person, and he's going to get the frigging _stuffing _hexed out of him when Dumbledore or Potter catch up to him. Conan's a bad person, too."

" You can't compare Conan to Voldemort!" she gasped. " And Conan isn't a _bad_ person as such. Just – misguided."

" He's got the morals of an alley cat," Dave growled, flapping laboriously up to her shoulder. " And because of that, _this_ is the hex you're going to put on him."

He cawed softly in her ear. There was a satisfied glint in his eyes as Meredith slowly sat back and grinned.

The hex was simple and elegant and oh-so-appropriate, Meredith thought. There was a very small chance of her being caught casting it, but the risk was slight; they'd been practising silent spell-casting since the beginning of term (although she'd mastered it the year before by herself, and had an edge over the rest of the students) so all she had to do was lurk in the shadows somewhere and hex him when he wasn't looking.

She wanted to do it that night, when the idea was still fresh in her head and the anger was still hot. She would have the perfect opportunity, too – although Conan didn't play Quidditch, he liked to watch it, and he always watched the Gryffindors practice if he could. This night was no different. Whilst the team where still in the Quidditch changing rooms, Conan trudged back up to his tower dormitory.

Meredith was waiting for him in the deep shadows of a corridor she knew he would use. It was dark and deserted, and she could be very quiet when she wanted to be – he wouldn't see or hear her.

Eventually Conan came in to view from her position behind a convenient statue. He looked happy; the cold air had reddened his cheeks and his hair was wind-blown. Meredith felt a brief pang when she saw him; he still looked as handsome as he had the day they'd argued. Maybe if she talked to him instead of hexing him…

But no, that would never do. She'd never hear the end of it from Dave if she didn't go through with their plan now. She reminded herself that Conan deserved what he was going to get.

She shot off her spell from the hip, choosing not to raise her wand so that he wouldn't detect any motion in the shadows. The spell flew straight and true and when it hit Conan, he stopped abruptly in the middle of the corridor and twitched slightly.

Meredith put her hand over her mouth to cover a smile, and also to stifle the laughter she felt sure would emerge any second now. Conan took a deep breath, looking around him with suspicious eye. When he saw no-one he went to move off…and then stopped abruptly again as the spell began to take effect.

Meredith knew it was cruel, but the spell had just seemed so perfect when she'd found it in the Restricted Section of the Library. His normal, human ears shrank and disappeared; his skin rippled as pointed cat-ears sprouted out of the top of his head. He clapped his hands to them in panic, and then immediately his hands went to his backside – where a long, thin tail was swishing agitatedly from side to side.

The look on his face was priceless, just priceless. She had to admit he did make rather a handsome cat; the ears and tail were both the same shade of sandy blonde as his hair, and they had dark tips.

She observed him with self-satisfied eyes as he scurried away, presumably to his own Common Room. He had the morals of an alley cat, and now he looked like one.

Conan was absent from lessons the next day. Meredith kept her mouth shut about what she'd done; nobody could prove it was her because there was such a large amount of people (especially girls) that had a grudge against him. She didn't even tell Mariana and Ophelia, but she knew they would have guessed it was her anyway. They kept giving her sly looks and patting her congratulatory on the back when nobody was looking.

Conan was back to normal the day after that; Madam Pomfrey, the school Healer, had reversed the spell and taken away the ears and tail, but the damage to his reputation was already done. Word of the curse had spread around the school like wild fire, as rumours always do, and now people who passed him in the corridors said things like, " Here, kitty," or " Kitty want some milk?" Draco Malfoy and his cronies teased him mercilessly, taunting him whenever they saw him.

Conan cornered her in the Library a few days later. She was at the end of one of the stacks, flicking through a book about dragons, when the light was blocked out. She turned around to find Conan's solid bulk was blocking the exit out of the stack. Her hand strayed casually down to the wand in her pocket.

" Don't worry, I'm not going to counter-curse you," he growled at her. Had he guessed it was her that hexed him?

" I don't know what you're talking about," she replied warily.

" Cut the bollocks, Meredith, I know that it was you that gave me the cat accessories. I can't prove it but I know it was you – it's very much in your style to do something like that."

She gasped with shock. " How dare you! I've never done something like that, and never would! And anyway, there's lots of other people who would want to curse you."

He shrugged as if he couldn't care less. " But not many people who would know a complex curse like that," he replied. " The only reason Madam Pomfrey doesn't suspect you is because it's not common knowledge that we were seeing each other."

Meredith paled. She'd known the spell was complex, but she had never thought that that complexity could trap her.

Conan noticed the look on her face, and gave her a sudden dazzling smile that threw her off balance.

" Don't worry, I'm not going to drop you in it," he told her. " But only because I know I probably deserved it in the first place. I'm glad it was only cat ears and a tail – a girl with your knowledge could have done me serious harm if she'd wanted to."

She coughed lightly, embarrassed by both his promise not to get her in trouble and his compliment.

" I wanted to teach you a lesson," she remarked.

" Are we even?" he asked softly, looking at her face.

She was silent for a long moment.

" No," she replied eventually. " No, we're not even, but if you want to think that you go right ahead."


	12. Chapter 12

**CHAPTER FIVE**

Meredith and Conan studiously avoided each other over the next few weeks; not a particularly hard task, except during the few lessons that Slytherin students shared with Gryffindor. And even then it wasn't so bad – they only ever worked with people from their own House.

Meredith was eating her breakfast one Monday morning (two sausages, three slices of bacon, chips, beans, fried mushrooms and onions, two fried eggs and coffee) and reading the Daily Prophet as she did every day. Owls were swooping down from the high windows, dropping letters, small parcels and newspapers. She heard a thump in front of her and idly looked up; she thought perhaps this month's edition of the Quibbler had arrived. Not many people read it – the small magazine was produced by Loony Luna Lovegood's father, and contained a lot of questionable content and various crackpot ideas – but Meredith thought that perhaps, one day, there might be a grain of truth in there somewhere. There was still a lot about the magical world that wizards didn't know, although they'd be the first to tell you otherwise.

But it wasn't the Quibbler lying in amongst the nearest tray of toast – it was a heavy letter, bound by a red ribbon and sealed with a blob of wax. It had her name on the front and she frowned as she recognised the script – it was written in her father's heavy, decisive hand.

Her father had never written to her during her entire stay at Hogwarts; she barely saw him during the holidays. Time and time again his absences had made it clear to her that she wasn't a loved or wanted daughter – his reaction when her mother died had been proof enough of that. So what possible reason could he have for sending her a letter now?

She forced herself to finish her sausage and take a mouthful of coffee before she picked it up. She didn't want to read it.

Sighing, she undid the ribbon and pocketed it, and broke the wax seal. Unfolding the letter she began to read.

_Daughter_, it read, _as we are both aware your birthday is barely seventh months away. In April you will be seventeen and legally of age._

_When you were a child an agreement was made between myself and a businessman called Andrei Krupova. You do not need to know the specifics of that agreement, save for one fact – when you come of age, you will be married to Krupova's son, Aleksandar. _

_Arranged marriages are common amongst people of our breeding and history, and are important if we are to keep our blood pure. That is the important thing – pureblooded marriages ensure pureblooded children._

_Aleksandar Krupova will be transferring from his current school – Durmstrang – to Hogwarts and should arrive there within the week. I trust that you will exercise both wit and diplomacy when he arrives. Remember your manners, smile, and try to remember that you are a young lady of the Corrigan family and not a bookworm. _

_You will be married one week after your seventeenth birthday. I will allow you to remain at Hogwarts on the condition that you cause me no trouble in this matter._

_I am counting on you to uphold the traditions of this family. Do not embarrass me._

_Yours,_

_Benedict Corrigan._

Meredith read and reread the letter several times before the sense of it finally began to sink in. She was going to be forced to marry a man she'd never met, didn't know and certainly didn't love. An arranged marriage! It was slavery, pure and simple, and she couldn't accept that her father would force her in to something so barbaric. She would refuse.

But…what would happen if she refused to marry this boy? What was the worst her father could do?

He'd be furious with her, for a start. And her father in a temper was not something she ever wished to see again. And if she refused before she turned seventeen, he still had the authority to yank her out of school and forbid her to go back. He could ban her from taking her NEWT's!

And worse yet…he could even disown her, although that wouldn't mean too much in a family sense. He'd never been much of a father to her before – she wouldn't miss love and affection she'd never had. But if he disowned her he would cut her off from her inheritance – he'd told her that unless she got consistently perfect grades, she could kiss her inheritance goodbye. She'd never told anybody that fact. Luckily, getting perfect grades had never been a problem, but it was the fact that he would threaten her at all hurt her deeply.

And she needed that money, if her long-held dream was ever to come true. For as long as she could remember she'd wanted to open a centre for Magical Research; she'd done her own research and the Ministry of Magic didn't have any kind of facility like that. They just tried to regulate and control the use of magic, whereas she wanted to understand it – what made it tick, how it worked, how it could be used. She wanted to know where it came from, why wizards could use it and muggles couldn't; she wanted to delve deep in to the depths of history and find out how prehistoric wizards had cast their spells. All the Ministry of Magic had was their Department of Mysteries, and the Unmentionables that worked there. It was all very secretive. She wanted her research to be available to everybody.

And for that she needed money, the money she would get from her inheritance. And she would never get that if she defied her father over this damned arranged marriage!

She could feel tears of frustration prickling her eyes, and it was at that point that Mariana and Ophelia noticed their friend's agitation.

" Meredith, what's the matter?" Ophelia asked with concern.

" I'm getting married in seven months time," Meredith replied in a dull tone of voice. She let the letter drop from hr suddenly numb fingers.

Mariana picked it up and read it. Her lips thinned with disapproval as she wordlessly handed it to Ophelia to read.

" He can't do this to you!" Ophelia burst out passionately. " I know arranged marriages are traditional amongst the pure blooded families, but it's a practice that stinks! He can't force you to do it!"

Meredith smiled sadly at her. " Yes, he can," she replied. " He can cut me off from my inheritance. He could take me out of school. Hogwarts is my life – if he takes me away…"

Her dreams began to fade away as she realised something else. All her father's friends were businessmen; their only desires were to make more Galleons and to promote their family name. The sons of such men were often cut from the same cloth – she doubted that her new husband would appreciate any research work she might do. And he might even try and stop it altogether! From what little she remembered from her early childhood, and the things that Cook had told her, she knew that her father hadn't approved of any of the things her mother had done. Her mother had had a brilliant mind…and it had gone to waste.

The tears of frustration turned in to real tears; she felt nearly as helpless as she had when she realised her father didn't love her. She took a deep breath and fought to get herself under control; when she felt she could talk without crying, she risked a look at her two friends.

They both looked at her sympathetically, and Ophelia clapped her on the shoulder.

" Look on the bright side," Ophelia told her. " I've heard of the Krupovas – they're pretty rich. And this Aleksandar is probably pretty good looking. _And_ you'll be assured of a husband – you don't need to go through the whole messy dating business."

The next few days passed in a fast, queasy blur. Meredith clung to her schoolwork like a life raft, anchoring herself to normal routine for all she was worth. Merlin knew her life would be turned upside down soon enough!

Friday dawned with foul weather. It had been threatening throughout the week and it had chosen this day – unsurprisingly – to break; the sky outside was thick with dark, heavy clouds, and sheets of rain lashed everything below. Lightening flashed high above and thunder boomed; this was the first proper storm of winter, and it was making its presence known.

Meredith's nerves were completely shot to pieces as she made her way through that day's lessons. She dropped a freshly-filled vial in Potions, earning her a scathing comment from Slughorn; she fluffed her Transfigurations spell and received a stern ticking off from McGonagall (the woman normally couldn't fault her work, but they'd never liked one another after the fuss she'd made over bringing a raven to school rather than an owl) and she kept mixing up her words in Charms. Professor Flitwick asked her how she was feeling; Meredith had been unable to reply and now people were beginning to wonder what her problem was.

She went down to the evening meal that night feeling as if she was about to be executed. Ophelia and Mariana sat next to her, but even their presence wasn't enough to calm her down.

She kept half an eye on the head table, waiting for an announcement. She could hear Gus, Perry and Victor rambling away to each other in the background – Gus's loud, penetrating voice kept intruding on her thoughts, and she kept flashing him annoyed looks.

Perry was tapping her arm from his seat across the table.

" Where do you want this bottle?" he was asking her, briefly flashing the top of a firewhisky bottle from his bag. " Do you want it now, or shall I give it to you later?"

" Oh, stick it anywhere you like," Meredith snapped with irritation, not paying much attention to what he was saying. She thought she'd seen one of the smaller doors in the Great Hall opening, and was that a flash of an emerald green robe as Professor McGonagall strode in to the room?

But her attention was drawn forcibly back to the Unholy Trio as they erupted in to laughter, drawing annoyed glances from the other Slytherin diners.

Gus was making an extremely loud klaxon noise. " Warning! Warning! Innuendo overload!"

Perry sniggered. " In-your-end-o."

" What's in _your_ end, Perry?" Victor shot back, his mouth fixed in to a huge grin.

It was only then that Meredith realised what she'd said, and she groaned. You had to be _so_ careful what you said to them – they could twist the most innocent, innocuous statement and pervert it to their own ends.

She was spared the necessity of having to kill them, however, when the Hall fell suddenly and abruptly silent. Professor McGonagall was striding the length of the room, disapproval making her lips even thinner than they normally were. Sauntering along behind her was – was –

Meredith gulped, her heart racing. Sauntering along behind the old Professor was the most handsome, striking boy she'd ever seen; more handsome than Conan, more commanding than someone like Draco Malfoy…and causing more whispered comments than Harry Potter.

He was very tall – she estimated him to be about six foot two – and he was built on solid, muscular lines. His hair was thick and honey-blonde, though his eyebrows were very dark and gave him a brooding appearance that some girls were already swooning over. He was wearing Hogwarts robes, but he made them look like the richest garments ever made. They draped over his body, outlining his muscles and billowing out behind him.

Dumbledore got to his feet and came to stand in front of the head table. McGonagall bustled over to her seat and sat down, leaving the tall stranger to stand beside the Headmaster.

He held up both hands for complete silence, and the excited whispers died away.

" Ladies and gentlemen, it would appear that Hogwarts fame has spread far and wide. I trust Miss Nelson from America is settling in well, hmm?" He didn't pause to allow her to reply – it was more than likely he already knew exactly how well she was settling in. He seemed to know most things in the school.

Meredith gulped. That being the case, did Dumbledore know about her arranged marriage? How could he allow it if that were true?

Because she was still underage, that was why, and under her father's authority. She grimaced.

" I ask you all now to welcome another new student, hailing this time from the prestigious Durmstrang Academy in Bulgaria. This is Mr Aleksandar Krupova, and he hopes to study for his NEWT's at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Professor McGonagall, the Sorting Hat, if you please."

Still wearing a disapproving look (Krupova's obvious charm wouldn't cut any ice with _her_) she disappeared in to a side room for a moment. When she returned she was carrying the small stool and the battered, tatty form of the Sorting Hat.

She put the stool down in the open space in front of the head table and gestured for Krupova to sit. Flashing her a wide, white-toothed smile he did as he was told. Meredith was sure she saw the older woman snort as she lowered the hat down on to Krupova's head.

It had barely touched his head when it shouted out " SLYTHERIN!"

A roar of approval issued from the Slytherin table, a roar that Meredith was surprised to find that she added to. It was unimaginable that he could be Sorted in to any other house, if he was to be her husband – all her father's English cronies were ex-Slytherins, so it made sense for Aleksandar to be one too.

McGonagall whipped the Hat off his head and waved him off in the direction of the Slytherin table. As soon as he was on his feet she picked up the stool and hurried away with both the Sorting items.

Aleksandar Krupova sauntered over to the table of his new House, and Meredith wondered briefly if a saunter was his natural pace.

" You have to go and meet him, you're a Prefect!" Mariana pointed out to her, poking her in the ribs.

" So is Malfoy," she muttered rebelliously, noting that Draco was already getting to his feet. Like most of the boys she'd started school with he'd shot up, and now he was only a few inches shorter than Krupova. His white-blonde hair was still elegantly slicked back, and she couldn't help but compare the two.

She clambered off her bench and moved hurriedly around the table to meet the new student, forcing a welcoming smile on her face as she reached him.

" Good evening, good evening," she began. " My name is Meredith Corrigan, and I'm a Prefect for Slytherin. I hope you settle in to our House."

Up close, he was almost absurdly tall; he loomed over her, a solid, muscled bulk of man. She found it suddenly hard to breath and she felt sure her face was turning red even as she thought about it.

He moved closer and beamed down at her, his white teeth gleaming. She noticed that his eyes were a rich chocolate brown and they fixed her own – a pale shade of violet today due to the contact lenses – with an intense state. He took her hand and made a show of bowing over it, before planting a light, gentlemanly kiss on her skin.

Draco was already frowning, a gesture that was more than familiar to Meredith.

" And I'm Draco Malfoy," he interrupted, " also a Prefect. It's my job to dish out discipline in my House."

Krupova took his time straightening up to his full and more than impressive height. He looked down at Draco with a polite, cold expression on his face.

" Malfoy," he replied thoughtfully in a heavily accented voice. " I know that name. Vasn't it a certain Lucius Malfoy that vas arrested last year after infiltrating the Department of Mysteries and who now rots in Azkaban?"

Draco's face twisted with anger and he took two angry steps closer to Aleksandar. Meredith's arm shot out and impacted with Draco's chest as she stopped him going any closer; he shot her a quick, furious look.

" You'll pay for that, Krupova," he spat venomously. " You'd better watch yourself." He turned and stalked back to his seat.

Meredith cast a quick look around to Ophelia and Mariana – they had each moved along the bench a little, enough to provide enough space for Aleksandar to sit.

She seized his hand and dragged him to their seats, conscious that many of the students were openly staring at them.

" Why did you have to insult him?" she hissed with irritation. " Malfoy is probably the last person in the whole school that you should cross!"

He arranged himself carefully on the bench, raising one hand to help her sit down herself. She took it, somewhat bemused.

" The Malfoys are arrogant and vocal in that arrogance. They giff other purebloods a bad reputation." He shrugged. " Also, any fool could see that he finds you attractive. I vill not have other boys looking at my future vife in such a manner."

Meredith was horror struck. Beside her she could feel that Ophelia was holding back giggles, and she saw that Mariana was determinedly looking at the enchanted ceiling in an effort not to laugh.

" Malfoy does _not_ find me attractive," she told him firmly. " He's going out with Pansy Parkinson. That's all there is to it."

Aleksandar merely shrugged. " Men see things that vimmin miss, my dear Meredith," he replied. " He finds you attractive, but who could not? You are a beautiful young voman."

Meredith blushed crimson, and she was even more aware of her friends' desperate struggle not to laugh. She ducked her head, not quite sure how to deal with his flattery…until she remembered what her father had said in his letter.

_Try to remember that you are a young lady of the Corrigan family, and not a bookworm._

Right. A young lady of breeding, of manners, out to ensnare a rich husband. A brainless idiot.

She raised her head and gave him her brightest smile.


	13. Chapter 13

**CHAPTER SIX**

Meredith woke up the next morning feeling dazed, and not quite sure of what had happened.

She and Aleksandar had chatted amiably through the rest of dinner, though her appetite had been shot to pieces. When dinner was over she'd shown him how to get to the Slytherin Common Room, and shown him where the boys dorm was, answering his questions on the way. Lights out – the time when they all had to be back in their dorms – wasn't until nine, so Meredith still had a few hours to give him a brief guided tour of the castle.

Aleksandar took it all in his stride, memorising corridors quicker than she could have imagined and even leading them back to their Common Room. The long corridor that led to their portrait-door was deserted, and as they stood in the gloom he'd caught her suddenly by the arm, drawn her closer to him…and kissed her.

Meredith had been stunned, both by the swiftness of his move and the intensity of the kiss. Conan had never kissed her like that, for all his protestations that she was the only girl for him.

" Aleks," she began (he'd asked her to call him by the shortened version of his name) " don't you think its…well…a bit too soon for all this?" she finished after she'd got her breath back.

He'd shaken his head straight away. " I must lay down my claim straight avay," he'd replied. " I see the vay other boys look at you, though you choose to ignore it. Vhy, ve passed a boy in the corridors – he vould have murdered me vith his eyes, if he could haff done."

It was true. Conan had passed them earlier on, and the look he'd shot Aleksandar's way would have curdled milk. This was going to be hard for her to handle – he made other boys jealous, and he made other girls lust after him. She decided she would probably end up being pretty unpopular by the end of next week!

Aleksandar was only taking four NEWT level classes this year, and there were one or two that Meredith wasn't taking that he was. For those periods it was Draco's job to escort Aleks around, at least until he settled in. The way he was memorising the place, that would only be a week or so at best.

It was Thursday of the next week, and Aleksandar was in Divination with Malfoy. This year Divination was being taught by the centaur Firenze, a fact that had had Meredith in a positive fit of annoyance when she found out – she'd dropped the subject, and by the time she'd learned that one of her favourite magical creatures was to teach it, it was too late to switch lessons.

The classroom was something of a rarity amongst most Hogwarts rooms. Firenze came from the Forbidden Forest, and he liked to teach there; however, as he was now an outcast and students were only allowed to go so far in, he'd brought the Forest to him. His classroom had been magically transformed to appear as a small section of the Forest. It looked completely real, even down to the faint breeze that wafted through the room.

In previous lessons Draco had sat as far away from Aleks as was politely possible, but today he chose to sit right next to him on the packed earth ground of the Forest Floor. When Firenze wasn't paying them any attention, Draco turned around and began a hissed conversation with the new Bulgarian student.

" I know why you're really trying to marry in to the Corrigan family," he began, his grey eyes alight with mocking pleasure.

Aleks gave him a look of polite disinterest. " I vill marry Meredith because it has been arranged," he replied. " She is a beautiful voman, and I am lucky to haff her."

" Don't play innocent with me, Krupova," Draco hissed. " I know your family is facing bankruptcy – and the Corrigans are one of the wealthiest wizarding families in the world. You're nothing more than a filthy foreign gold digger."

Aleksandar leaned closer to him. " Poor little Draco lost his daddy, and now he's going to lose the girl he has a crush on," he taunted idly. He gave no hint that he knew the real reasons behind the arranged marriage; his father had told him the true details long ago, and he was comfortable with the plans that were unfolding now. Although it was true their family was facing bankruptcy – his father had never been a particularly good businessman, and he'd eventually lost the contracts with Petkov, Angelova and Dinev that he'd worked so hard to keep. Their family fortunes, however, were _not_ common knowledge, so how Draco knew about it was anybody's guess.

Draco's face twisted in to an ugly, enraged scowl at Aleks' words and he whipped out his wand.

" Expelliarmus!" he yelled.

" Stupefy!" Aleks yelled in return.

Their spells hit each other at the same time; Aleks' wand flew out of his hand where it hit a tree and fell to the ground – the Bulgarian dived after it. Draco was knocked back by a bolt of red light and hit the ground some feet away with a dull thud and a volley of swearing. He was up in a second and ready to cast again, as Aleks was, but before either could set off another spell a swift kick from Firenze's hind hooves sent each one flying.

" Enough!" he boomed, rearing impressively up on to his rear legs, front legs flailing. He hit the ground with a decisive thud, his arms folded across his chest and a black look on his face. " What is the meaning of this?"

Draco was quick to get his lies in.

" It was him, sir!" he said hastily, " He just Stunned me for no reason!"

Aleks was calmer in his approach. " He insulted my family, sir, and my morals. Such a challenge cannot go unpunished."

" Lies!" Malfoy spat.

" Silence, the pair of you!" Firenze broke in, his deep voice booming again. Rarely had the class seen him angry, and they gawped and stared now like goldfish in a bowl.

" This is a place of learning, not of fighting," he told them sternly. " You will not fight in my class. As punishment each of you will have twenty points deducted from your House. Mr Malfoy, you will have detention with me for a week, starting tonight. Mr Krupova, your detention will also be a week, starting when Mr Malfoy's ends."

Word of their near-duel spread around the school, and by lunchtime everybody knew about it – including Meredith. She was furious! Why did they have to be so thickheaded and cause trouble like that?

She collared Aleksandar on their way to lunch and demanded an explanation from him.

" He insulted my family, and questioned my motives," he replied calmly. " Nobody should accept insults like that."

Meredith made a frustrated noise and threw her hands up.

" Fine!" she almost shouted at him. " Stupid bloody men and their stupid bloody morals," she muttered as she stormed away.

Aleksandar watched her go with a smile twitching the corners of his mouth.

" You're feisty vhen you're angry!" he called to her. She flicked him a finger and carried on.

Malfoy was the next target of her ire, and she caught up to him as he was walking down to the Quidditch pitch to watch Slytherin practice. His goons Crabbe and Goyle were with him; when he saw the expression on her face he waved them on. They walked on without him, looking back over their shoulders at him until they were out of sight.

" Look, I know it sounds bad-" he began.

" Shut up," she ground out. " Just answer me this – why did you insult his family?"

" Is that what he told you?" he replied with amusement. " I didn't insult him, or his family – I merely told him an unpleasant truth." He hesitated for a moment before continuing.

" He's only trying to marry in to your family for the money," he told her. " This isn't common knowledge – I got it from my mother and her gossip grapevine. House Krupova is facing bankruptcy, and your money will keep them solvent."

" Lies," she shot back immediately. " My father and Krupova Senior are old friends! He'd never agree to something like this if the Krupova's were poor." She shook her head. " Aleks is right – you're jealous of him!"

" No, it's not like that-" he tried desperately.

" You're pathetic," she told him over her shoulder as she walked away.

Life grew steadily harder and harder for Meredith over the next few weeks, as September turned in to October. The earlier storms had died down somewhat as autumn well and truly turned to winter, and October now was bitterly cold and crisp. The skies every day were deep blue and there was little wind; the conditions were perfect for Quidditch, and the four teams were up at the pitch as often as they could get away with. She only saw Conan at meal times, and even then that wasn't a guarantee; Nola Nelson was beginning to look steadily more and more irritated by his absences. One evening they even had a brief, flaming row at the Gryffindor table that was quickly hushed – Meredith could have spared Nola the bother if she'd decided to tell her that Conan always put Quidditch over his women. She was only slightly ashamed to find that she was pleased that not even the gorgeous blonde American could make him change his habits that much!

Her problems continued. Draco and Aleksandar took every opportunity possible to taunt and ridicule each other, to the point where only Dumbledore's threat to take away Draco's Prefect status made him behave. Aleksandar had also managed to annoy Conan; Aleks was a fierce Quidditch player, as good as – if not better than – the legendary Viktor Krum himself, and it was rumoured he would be taken on to the Russian Quidditch team when he finished school. Meredith could well believe that. She'd seen him play as Beater before, and he whacked every Bludger with an easy strength that had Conan gnashing his teeth. Aleks had been ushered on to the Slytherin team almost with reverence, a fact that annoyed the stuffing out of Draco as well. He'd resigned his position as Seeker, giving it up to a younger, faster player – and vowed never to play the sport again.

It was awkward. Aleks and Draco hated one another because of her. Conan had always hated Draco (nothing to do with her) and now he hated Aleks too, again because of her. Another sixth year Slytherin girl, Pansy Parkinson, was also starting to give her deep, suspicious looks – the hard-faced girl's name had been consistently linked to Draco's ever since school began, and Meredith wouldn't be at all surprised if the two of them married after they finished school. They certainly deserved each other – both were equally arrogant and rude.

The only thing Meredith could do was to carry on as she was. She ignored Draco and Pansy, and she rarely saw Conan anyway. It was Aleksandar she had to focus on, and that was just what she did.

She spent as much time with him as she dared, getting to know him (after her homework was done); she came rapidly to the conclusion that she didn't like him very much. He was every bit as arrogant as Draco though he hid it better, and he was also a bully; on several occasions she caught him terrorising some of the younger students. It was her duty as Prefect to monitor such things, so she tried to talk him out of it – each session of trying to talk sense in to him resulted in her failure. He turned the tables on her every time – he deftly switched the conversation and made her forget what she was even talking about when he kissed her.

For all that she didn't like him, she had to admit that he _was_ a good kisser; she suspected he must have had a lot of practice before he came to Hogwarts, and the thought bothered her – but not because she was jealous. On the contrary, she'd have been more than happy if he went back to Durmstrang and never came back, but more and more frequently she wondered if he'd had a girlfriend out there, and what she was doing now if he did.

Was it possible that that girlfriend could know about her situation here?

And what would she do if she did?


	14. Chapter 14

**CHAPTER SEVEN**

The days ticked slowly by as October began to grow colder and colder. The teachers were muttering to themselves about early snow that year, but Meredith didn't mind – she'd always loved cold weather; Cook always teased her about it, telling her that surely the cold weather must cool down her hot temper.

She still wrote to Cook on a regular basis, though the old woman had retired now. Her niece – a much younger though no less efficient woman – had taken up the official role of Cook to the Corrigan household, but the older woman would always be Cook to Meredith. She was a surrogate mother, a friend and a confidante, and she loved her far more than she ever had her own father.

The corridors and Common Rooms soon began to fill with talk of the upcoming Halloween Ball; Meredith and Aleksandar had faded in to the background as a topic for conversation as had Conan and Nola, for which Meredith was very pleased. But her own thoughts turned to the Ball as well. She didn't particularly want to go; it was a social event, and although family training had taught her to deal with them and to represent Family Corrigan, she still didn't like them.

She was also annoyed by the way that Aleksandar hadn't asked her to the Ball. She was still going with him – he talked about the event as if he already had asked, and she'd accepted – but he hadn't actually asked her. Where was the romance in that? It was just another one of the many tiny little things she didn't like about her future husband.

She started to spend more and more time in the Library by herself, and away from Aleks. It was the one place she knew he'd rather die than go into – it didn't take a genius to work out that books intimidated him, and learning in general. She'd already tentatively brought up the subject of her plans for a research facility and he'd scoffed at them, telling her that a wife didn't need to do any research – she just needed to look beautiful and know how to host a party. She'd ground her teeth and kept her silence, and saved her temper until she was in a room several floors up from the Slytherin Common Room. She'd broken several chairs and incinerated some wall hangings, but she had felt much better after it, and was able to face Aleks again with a calm smile.

Just over a fortnight before the Halloween Ball Meredith was in her usual spot in the Library. She'd just bid farewell to Dave and his son Bart; they'd flown off and up to the Owlery to hurl a bit of verbal abuse at the owls, one of their favourite past times. Madam Pince had come along at about quarter to nine to remind her that it was nearly time for all students to be in their Common Rooms; taking the hint, Meredith packed up her shoulder back and slowly made her way towards the Moving Staircase.

The corridors were long and gloomy looking; there were torches on the walls at regular intervals but they guttered fitfully in the unseen breeze that whipped through cracks and chinks in the windows. She paused thoughtfully at the entrance to one corridor – was it always this shadowy? She walked along it virtually every day, and she didn't remember it being this way. They really ought to do something about the draughts in this castle. They were a serious threat to the torches, and she was sure it would only be a matter of time before some unsuspecting first-year fell down a flight of stairs because they couldn't see where they were putting their feet. And never mind that they all knew the Lumos spell!

She shrugged and carried on walking – the dark had never bothered her, and she wasn't going to let it start now. Spiders, on the other hand…spiders scared her seven kinds of witless.

She was halfway along the corridor when she heard the sound. She paused, listening – it had been muffled by the sound of her own footfalls. She frowned when it came again…was that the sound of a _hoof_?

She couldn't quite believe her ears, even when the noise repeated itself a third time. The steady clip-clop of hooves. It wouldn't be Firenze – the centaur had ground floor lodgings, and never ventured any higher. So what else could make such a noise several floors up in the castle?

She slid her wand out of one of her many skirt pockets, whirling when she heard another noise behind her – the same noise again! What was it?

She bit her lip as a strong draft wafted through the window-cracks and blew out several of the nearest guttering torches, throwing her in to almost complete darkness. She wasn't scared of the dark, she wasn't…and then she heard another noise. A wet snuffling, deep and low – menacing – and then another one behind her! There were two of them – whatever _they_ were.

Slowly she backed up to the wall where she could keep an eye on both ends of the corridor.

Red eyes appeared in the thick gloom, and the wet snorting noise came again. Her head whipped around to the other side – more red eyes! – and her breathing became higher and faster.

" Wh-who's there?" she finally managed to pluck up the courage to call out.

The only answer was that the wet snuffling became more excited, and the trotting hooves began to move towards her. She bit back a squeak and readied her wand, ready to shoot off a Stunning spell the moment she saw anything solid.

Sound on her left – the hooves were picking up speed, trotting, then breaking in to a run, and then a full-blown gallop; something huge and hairy burst out of the darkness and thundered towards her.

" _Stupefy_!" she screamed at the monstrous shape…and then gave a squeal of fear as she heard the other beast thundering towards her from the other direction!

She spun around, ready to let off another spell – and it was then that the first beast crashed in to her with punishing force.

She was hurled forward with tremendous power and slammed in to the stone floor some distance away. Her wand was knocked from her hand and she desperately flailed for it, her body a mass of sudden urgent pains.

The snorting and snuffling noises were clearly more excited and she managed to get a quick look at the nearest one as her fingers closed around the familiar wooden handle of her wand – the evil red eyes were small and piggy, set in a pointed, shaggy face. Four wicked hooves were on the end of stocky legs, attached to a fat, bristly body – wild boar?

Meredith couldn't quite believe what she was seeing until it snorted again, and then she noticed a set of short, sharp tusks. She gulped and tried to struggle to her feet, to get away from them. She winched as she realised she would be covered with bruises from the first impact and her fall.

The second boar thundered towards her and knocked her down.

" Son of a-" she burst out as she hit the ground again, this time retaining her grip on her wand. She tried to spin as she fell, landing on her side rather than her front, and struggled to get up.

The first boar was on her again, and she hadn't managed to get up in time – solid hooves trampled her, and she screamed in agony. The second beast trotted up to her prone body and raked her with its tusks; the heavy skewers ripped right through her robes, through the white shirt she wore and opened a deep gash in her skin. Tears of pain poured down her cheeks as the other boar repeated the goring on her other prone side.

She was feeling woozy and sick – the flagstones were slicked with her own blood as she tried to crawl away. Her wand was clamped in a vice-like grip, even though her own hands were slick with blood as well.

One of the boars calmly, callously trampled her, and she heard more than felt the dull _snap_ of bones breaking.

Almost gladly she passed out.

Draco, Crabbe and Goyle were on their way back to the Slytherin Common Room, fresh from shaking down two frightened-looking first-years. They'd got a good haul this time; a handful of loose change (nothing higher than bronze Knuts and Silver Sickles) some sweets and a few Chocolate Frog Trading Cards. Malfoy strolled along in the lead whilst Crabbe and Goyle brought up the rear, scoffing their faces on the sweets whilst Draco counted the money. He pocketed it decisively.

" These corridors sure are dim, aren't they?" Crabbe asked, finally noticing that some of the torches had gone out.

" Yes, just about as dim as you are," Malfoy told him ruthlessly. " Some torches have gone out, that's all. You're not afraid of the dark, are you?"

Crabbe actually blushed, shooting his friend Goyle a shifty look.

" Course not, course not," he muttered. Goyle grinned like the goon he was.

" Give me some of those sweets," Draco demanded, turning back to look at them. It was then that he tripped over something lying on the floor; Crabbe's arm shot out and he grabbed Malfoy's shoulder, straightening him up and preventing him from falling over.

Angrily Draco shook him off before turning around to look at the thing that had nearly sent him flying.

" _Lumos_," he whispered, making the end of his wand glow brightly. He pointed it at the floor.

" Merlin's balls!" he said, surprised and horrified. That was a person lying in a pool of blood on the floor!

And a closer look revealed it to be…Meredith. Those rich brown curls were unmistakable!

He knelt beside her, careful not to get her blood on his robes, and felt at her neck for a pulse. It took him a long minute to find it and his breath came harshly as he searched…there! He had it!

" It's Meredith," he told Crabbe and Goyle. " Something's attacked her. We have to get her to Madam Pomfrey immediately!"

" You want us to pick her up?" Goyle asked, flexing his muscles.

" Gods, no. If you two lugs pick her up you could hurt her even more. I know a spell that should do the job." He took his wand out and pointed it at Meredith.

" _Mobilicorpus_," he intoned. Meredith's body rose about four feet off the cold hard ground and Malfoy started to walk back the way they'd come – the girl's body glided eerily along behind him, silently dripping blood.

The first sensation she was aware of was pain.

There was sharp pain across her midriff and at her sides, and her legs felt stiff and awkward. She put one hand up to her head in an automatic gesture and let out a sudden groan of pain; her arms felt stiff too, and her head was bandaged.

Opening her eyes, all she could see was a misty, indistinct blur, and she realised that someone – probably Madam Pomfrey – must have taken her contact lenses out.

Gritting her teeth against the pain, she reached out an arm to the bedside table and groped around short-sightedly for her glasses – they wouldn't have taken her contacts and then not left her old glasses.

With a slight sound of satisfaction her hand closed on the familiar snazzy metal frames and she put them on, pushing them up her nose. The world swam in to focus.

Painfully making herself sit up, she took stock of her injuries. There were bandages around her middle and around her head, and her arms and legs felt very stiff and sore. There were numerous cuts and bruises on her body and limbs, and she felt like she'd just gone ten rounds with an angry troll.

Madam Pomfrey popped out of a small side room and hurried over to her.

" I'm glad you're awake, young lady," she began brusquely, picking up a tall bottle of potion and a clear glass. She poured a little of the cream coloured potion in to the glass and handed it to her.

" Drink this up – your bones are still healing, and they're going to be very sore for a day or two until you're completely healed."

Knowing that most healing potions were foul, she downed the mixture in a few huge gulps. She was right; it tasted awful but she didn't complain. It was better than having broken bones!

Madam Pomfrey refilled her glass from a smaller bottle this time, smiling.

" Get this down you, Miss Corrigan. It's for your cuts and bruises, and you'll need to keep taking it at two-hourly intervals to heal those awful gashes in your sides – though I dare say you'll have some nasty scars. I'm afraid there's not a lot we can do about those."

Meredith downed the next potion – again without complaint – and leaned wearily back against her pillows. She wasn't all that bothered about scarring. She was just glad to be alive.

" I could have died out there," she said in a quiet voice, reflecting.

" You very nearly did. It was only the prompt thinking of Mr Malfoy and his friends that got you here in time – you were very badly injured. Broken bones, deep gashes in your sides and a very large assortment of cuts and bruises! Do you remember what happened to you?"

" Yes, Miss Corrigan, an accurate account of what happened to you would come in very useful. I shall be informing your father of your condition shortly."

That was a warm male voice, and Meredith turned her head to see the tall, reassuring figure of Dumbledore standing just inside the door. He walked towards her, his robe trailing out a little way behind him.

Meredith cleared her throat.

" Please, sir, you don't need to tell my father. I'm sure – I think he's probably away on a business trip at the moment." She had no idea if this was true or not, and she didn't really care. " But Cook – our old Cook, that is – she ought to know."

Dumbledore nodded. " Be that as it may, my dear, he is still your legal guardian and has a right to know. Now, what happened to you last night?"

Meredith thought back. " I was walking along a corridor – the torches were guttering, there's an awful draught through those windows. It was very dim. They blocked each end." She swallowed.

" They, Miss Corrigan?"

" Wild boar," she replied in a disbelieving tone of voice. " I don't know where they came from – some spell gone awry, perhaps – but they wanted me dead."

Dumbledore was thoughtful for a while, and then he gently patted Meredith's arm.

" Don't worry, my dear. I will have the castle searched. We will find whatever attacked you."

She smiled sleepily at him; had Madam Pomfrey put something else in one of those healing potions? Whether she had or not, she needed to sleep.

Dumbledore left, and Madam Pomfrey went back in to her little office. There was nobody else in the Infirmary.

She was just beginning to drift off when belligerent male voices intruded on her peaceful thoughts. Wearily she opened her eyes to see a figure on either side of her bed – Aleksandar on one side, and Draco on the other. She sighed.

" If all you're going to do is bicker you can bugger off right now," she replied, eyes closed.

" Are you alright, Meredith?" Aleks asked anxiously.

Her eyes opened wide. " I'm all bandaged up, Aleks! Do you think I look alright?"

" You look like you've just been trampled," Draco said, his face deadpan.

That brought a faint smile to her lips. " Trust a Malfoy to say it how it is," she replied.

Aleks took her hand and Draco glared at him, his grey eyes intense.

" You shouldn't be here, Malfoy," Aleksandar ground out. " Family and friends, that's all Madam Pomfrey vill allow."

" I saved her life!" Draco shot back. " I found her in the corridor! If it hadn't been for me, she'd have bled to death!"

" I think that makes Draco my friend," Meredith said in a dry voice. Draco's lips twitched.

" I vould haff found you myself, only minutes later," Aleks told her stiffly. " I vas coming to look for you anyvay."

" A likely story," Draco sneered. " I doubt you've even stepped in to that Library since you've been here, have you?"

Aleksandar looked down his aristocratic nose at Draco.

" I'd be very careful vhat you say to me, Malfoy. Vords do not frighten me…but perhaps a curse vould frighten _you_?"

" Are you threatening me?" Draco demanded as an ugly sneer crossed his face.

" Stop it, both of you," Meredith interrupted sharply.

Reluctantly they subsided.

" Do you know what attacked you?" Draco asked after a strained minute.

" Yes…yes, I think I do," she replied, " though it's the strangest thing…I think I was attacked by two wild boar."

Draco's reaction wasn't out of the ordinary at all, but Aleks behaved very peculiarly – his face turned white as a sheet.

" Excuse me," he stammered, " But I must…I need to go and send an owl to somevone…I think I may know…"

He dropped her hand like it was hot and almost dashed out of the room.

When she next woke the room was silent. She was also dying to use the loo, so she gingerly slid out of bed – cursing and swearing under her breath – and hobbled over to the bathrooms that were adjacent to the Infirmary.

When she got back in to bed she was cold; the air was chill against her short nightie. She snuggled down under the covers, raising them to her chin…and then she was glad she'd emptied her bladder _and_ covered herself up. Aleksandar was walking towards her, and Professor Snape was striding along behind him.

" Good morning, Miss Corrigan," Snape greeted her. " As your Head of House I felt it was my duty to come and see how you were doing, and to say that I hope you're back to lessons soon. Your NEWT's loom ever closer."

His familiar tones were dark and faintly jibing, but there was a twinkle in his eyes.

Meredith often thought that she might just be the student he disliked the least (everyone knew he hated them all) as she'd never been in trouble and always got perfect grades. He'd known both her mother and her aunt when they were all at school together, and he seemed to bear no particular grudge against her.

" I wouldn't want to miss my NEWT's, sir," she replied, an answering twinkle in her eyes. " Madam Pomfrey tells me I should be able to go back to my lessons within the next day or so. I'll be pleased to get back to them, to tell you the truth."

" Good. Now, I believe young Mr Krupova has something he would like to say to you – the owl that brought him this particular piece of news had come from a very long way away and seemed to have become confused, which is why Krupova's post was delivered to me instead. Having ascertained the contents of this letter, I felt moved to persuade him to share this information with yourself."

Meredith gave them both a bewildered look, noticing that Aleksandar looked very, very guilty. What had he done to provoke such a look?

" What's the matter, Aleks?" she asked him.

His shiftiness intensified. " You vere attacked by two vild boar." He wouldn't look at her. " I know who they vere – but I had to write a quick letter home to be sure."

" Well?" she asked impatiently. She sat up a little straighter in her bed.

" They are two wizards. Vladimir and Boris Petkov; they are Russians and registered Animagi." He fell in to silence, and only Snape's sharp prompting made him continue.

" Their family crest is also that of a vild boar, and for good reason – they are a very old, very powerful Russian family, very proud. They have many children, but there vas one…Katalina, so pretty…long blonde hair, and huge eyes…" He almost seemed to go off in a trance at the memory of this girl until Meredith coughed pointedly, bringing him back to himself.

" Katalina vas my girlfriend at Durmstrang," he continued. " She – she vas under the impression that she and I vould be married when ve finished school."

" But instead, you had to come here and – well-" She shot a look at Snape, not knowing how much he knew of her current circumstances. He gave her a tiny nod – as her Head of House, he would be privy to as much information about her as Dumbledore was.

" Instead I had to come here and marry you," Aleksandar finished. He hung his head. " I haff known I vould be coming here for some time…several years, in fact. I should not haff started seeing Katalina, but she vas very pretty…"

He raised his head and their eyes met; she could see the desperation in them, could see that he wanted her forgiveness for what his actions had caused…but she couldn't give it.

" Let me see if I've got this straight, then," she told Aleksandar in an icy tone she very rarely used – except when she was about to lose her temper. Snape wandered off a few steps, his arms crossed over his narrow chest as he looked at the ceiling with intense interest; Meredith took this to mean that he wasn't going to interfere with this argument. She was glad.

" You dated this girl Katalina at Durmstrang," she told Aleks, her voice getting icier by the second. " You knew at an early stage that you would be marrying me, but you still strung her along." She shot a brief look at Snape, shrugged and then carried on.

" Did you sleep with her?"

" Meredith! I cannot answer that-"

" _Did you sleep with her?_" she growled.

" Yes," he replied in a small voice, also shooting a look at Snape. The DADA Professor had, for the moment at least, appeared to go deaf.

" So she slept with this poor girl, strung her along, for a couple of years at least." She was loosing her icy composure; a red stain of anger was spreading across her face.

" Then you dump her and come here, and try and get in my good books," she snarled.

" And she's done just what any spoiled Russian daughter would do – she's sent her two homicidal brothers here to try and kill me!" she burst out, on the verge of hysteria. " How the hell did they manage to get in to Hogwarts anyway? I thought this was a safe place!"

Her outburst was draining what little energy she'd managed to recover by resting, but she didn't care – she had to say her piece or she would burst.

" Meredith, please, try and understand-"

" What is there to understand? You cheated on me before we even met, before I even knew I would be forced in to marrying a man I didn't even know, let alone love!"

She pointed a trembling finger at Aleksandar. " I refuse to be a puppet in someone else's story!" she raged, her eyes flashing like emeralds. " Go home and marry your precious little Petkov girl, Aleksandar, for I'll not marry you!" Tears of rage, hurt and betrayal were beginning to stream down her face.

" But our fathers-" Aleks tried again.

" I don't care what your father says. And I don't care what the bloody hell my father says, either! They can all go to hell! And so can you!"

Madam Pomfrey was hurrying over to them know, roused from her office by the sound of shouting.

" What's all this noise?" she began sternly, " We'll have no shouting here! Mr Krupova, I believe it's time you left. And begging your pardon, Professor Snape, but you should too – poor Miss Corrigan here is clearly overwrought by her ordeal! Here, girl, use this hankie." She handed Meredith a handkerchief and she wiped her eyes on it, glaring at Aleks as Madam Pomfrey ushered them out of the room.

Out in the corridor Snape was all business again.

" Now that you've ascertained Miss Corrigan's health, Mr Krupova, and dealt with the repercussions of your earlier assignations, I believe it would be prudent if you returned to your class. It's Transfigurations with Professor McGonagall at this time of the day, is it not?"

Aleks stared at the DADA professor as if he's suddenly grown an extra head. His whole life was crashing down around his ears, and all the stupid, greasy man wanted him to do was to go back to lessons! He started muttering under his breath, swearing in Bulgarian.

Snape stopped him with a hand on his shoulder.

" Mr Krupova," he began in perfect, faultless Bulgarian, " If you cannot keep a civil tongue in your head, I suggest you remain silent unless you would like that tongue…forcibly removed."

Aleksandar stared at him. " Are you threatening me? _Sir_?"

Snape gave him a small, malevolent smile.

" Yes, I am. And you've just earned yourself a week's worth of detentions."

Aleks groaned. Detention with Firenze _and_ Snape!

Meredith spent the rest of that day in the Infirmary under Madam Pomfrey's watchful gaze, and she made steady improvement. By the end of the day she able to walk unaided again, though she still felt rather stiff and sore, and all her cuts and scratches were fully healed. The two deep sets of gouges in her side were healed, too, leaving only thin scars – two long, silvery lines down each side, finishing just above her hips.

She slept restlessly that night, wanting to be back in her own bed and settling down to lessons again – she'd missed a couple of days by now, and although she was miles ahead of the other students she didn't like to miss a single thing. She'd always enjoyed rude good health before and never missed a single lesson.

The next morning Madam Pomfrey declared her fit enough to return to her lessons, if she took things easy and tried not to overdo it. She promised and was allowed to leave the Infirmary.

Unusually, she was escorted from Infirmary to Common Room by two burly school porters and by Professor Snape himself. He left her once she was safely in the Slytherin Common Room, refusing to answer any of her questions as to just why it was necessary to escort her. She supposed that they must be worried that the two Petkov boys were still at large, and could still prove a threat to her.

She was met with a barrage of questions from her fellow Slytherins, but she didn't feel inclined to answer any questions – she knew that rumour and speculation would be rife around the school, whatever she said. Instead she looked for her friends Ophelia and Mariana.

They found her first, ushering her in to their favourite corner near the fireplace. She gave them full details of her attack, telling them who her attackers why and why they'd come after her in the first place.

There was a strange hush between them when she finished her story. She looked at them, her gaze straying from one face to another.

" What's the matter?" she asked, perplexed.

Ophelia gulped, sharing a look with Mariana.

" There's been another attack," Ophelia replied eventually. " On a student. He was…killed. A poor first-year found the body this morning…"

Meredith's lips thinned.

" Who was it?" she asked on a whisper, fearing that she already knew.

Ophelia couldn't speak, looking beseechingly at Mariana.

" It was Aleksandar Krupova," Mariana murmured. " The Petkov boys killed Aleksandar."


	15. Chapter 15

**CHAPTER EIGHT**

Things moved now with alarming speed. Meredith had been brought back to the Slytherin Common room at a fairly early time in the morning; people were still getting dressed and ready for the day. But the normal progression of their day was halted when the first students tried to leave through the portrait-door – as soon as one of them touched it, Dumbledore's voice issued forth from thin air in an obviously pre-recorded spell:- " All students are to remain in their Houses until notified otherwise. There is danger in the school and we are currently dealing with it." And that was all he would say.

There was loud talk of people trying to Apparate out of the Common Room so that they could look around, until Gus reminded them in an extremely loud, hectoring tone that Apparition was magically prohibited in Hogwarts, and that Dumbledore wouldn't say that there was danger in the school if it wasn't so. If he wanted them to stay put, it was for a very good reason…and Meredith knew what that reason was.

Beyond the four Common Rooms, hurried discussions were taking place; owls were sent forth and meetings happened. Hit wizards from the Ministry of Magic were sent for – they were the wizarding equivalent of the muggle's police, only with wands and a lot more clout. Eight of them arrived within half an hour of the owls going out – they Apparated as close to Hogwarts as they could get (which was the outskirts of Hogsmeade) and rode broomsticks the rest of the way.

Parents were sent for as well. Meredith's father Benedict was reluctant to come; he was on a business trip in Geneva, he told Dumbledore, and it would inconvenience him to leave now. He only relented when the much older wizard told him that his only daughter had been on the very verge of dying, after which he moved with surprising speed.

Andrei Krupova, Aleksandar's father, was the first to arrive, and he was ushered in to the room by an extremely flustered looking McGonagall. It was enough having to deal with the upsets that Harry Potter and his friends caused, she thought, without having to deal with anything else!

" Is it true?" Andrei demanded as he strode in to the room. " Is my son dead? Vhere is he?"

He looked haggard and worn – the years had not been kind to his handsome features, and his thick, heavy blonde hair was liberally streaked with grey. It gave him a scruffy look that his general haggardness could only add to.

Dumbledore was already on his feet and walking round to meet Krupova.

" I'm very sorry, Mr Krupova, but that is indeed the case. Your son was attacked sometime during the night by two wild boar that we are led to believe are two sons of the House of Petkov."

" Boris and Vladimir," Krupova snarled, smashing one fist in to his other palm. " I should haff known! They are hotheads, the whole family!"

His anger was almost a palpable thing; it suffused his whole being, radiating out from him – and then, just as suddenly as it had arrived, it was gone. He sagged, deflated, and walked dejectedly over to an empty chair in front of Dumbledore's desk. The aged wizard trailed along behind him before making himself comfortable.

" Everything has gone wrong," Krupova remarked, almost to himself. " Aleksandar tried to keep his relationship with Katalina a secret from me, but I found out. He promised he had finished vith the girl…and now it seems her brothers have finished vith my son."

Krupova sighed, and then remembered something.

" The Corrigan girl, Professor Dumbledore…you said she had been attacked also? Has she recovered?"

Dumbledore was nodding. " Yes, on both counts. She was attacked a few nights ago, and it still troubles me greatly because I have no idea how they gained entry in to the castle. Security will have to be tightened again."

There was a polite knock on Dumbledore's office door; at a gesture from him it swung open. The hit wizards trooped in to his office – four men and two tiny, delicate looking women – and immediately the whole situation was outlined for them again.

" Remain in your office, Professor Dumbledore," their leader – a woman named Giselle Marchford – told the old wizard. " You too, Mr Krupova. The students are locked down in their Common Rooms, I trust?" Dumbledore nodded. " Good. And what about the teachers?"

" With the exception of Professor Snape, they have all shut themselves in the Staff Room," he replied. " Snape is at Hogsmeade, waiting the arrival of Mr Corrigan. They should be here very soon."

" Good," Miss Marchford replied with a decisive nod. " Very good. My fellow hit wizards and I will fan out and search the castle; we'll catch those Petkov boys in no time." She offered Dumbledore a quick grin. " We're all ex-Hogwarts students, so we know the secret passageways and doors in glorious, intimate detail. See you soon, Professor."

Miss Marchford tipped the old wizard a wink before leading her troupe out of the office once more.

" The hit vizards are getting so young these days," Krupova said despondently. " Vhy not send Aurors?"

" Because Aurors are used to deal primarily with Dark wizards," Dumbledore replied. " The Petkovs are not Dark wizards, though their actions may yet define them as so." He paused. " Would you like a cup of tea?"

Krupova shook his head. " Fire vhiskey vould be nice, if you haff it," he replied.

Dumbledore clicked his fingers; a full glass appeared at Krupova's hand. He downed it in seconds.

" Vhere is my son's body?" he asked eventually. " I – I vould like to see it, before I take him home. His mother, she is not vell – she couldn't travel…this may kill her…" And he buried his face in his hands and wept.

Dumbledore patted the man's shoulder consolingly.

" He is in the Infirmary," he replied in a very gentle voice. " I promise you will be allowed to see him, before you take him home – but it's not safe for you to walk the corridors until Boris and Vladimir Petkov have been apprehended."

As Krupova nodded miserably – he understood – there was another knock at the door, and this time Professor Snape came in. So close on his heels he almost tripped came the angry form of Benedict Corrigan; rudely he pushed the DADA teacher out of his way and marched right up to Dumbledore. Snape gritted his teeth and silently counted to ten.

" Where the bloody hell is my daughter, Dumbledore?" he roared. " What do you think you're playing at? I sent her here because this was _supposed_ to be a safe school, somewhere where she could get on with her damn fool education without getting under my feet! And now I hear she's been attacked!"

Dumbledore's face had been sympathetic for Krupova, but now slipped in to blank impassivity as Corrigan shouted at him.

" Might I draw your attention to Mr Krupova," he replied when he had the opportunity. " His son was killed by the same things that attacked your daughter."

A savage light gleamed in Corrigan's eyes as he wheeled round to face Krupova.

" See what you get for meddling with things that don't concern you!" he gloated, pointing a finger at the sitting man. At his words Krupova jumped to his feet, wand out of his pocket and pointed at Corrigan.

" Gentlemen, please!" Dumbledore shouted in a voice that was used to commanding respect. Each man glanced at him, surprised.

" Your daughter, Mr Corrigan, was attacked by Boris and Vladimir Petkov, in retaliation to Aleksandar's broken promises to their sister Katalina. I have hit wizards from the Ministry combing the corridors of Hogwarts even as we speak."

He held up a wrinkled hand to forestall the stream of venom Corrigan was about to vent.

" And before you start shouting again, Mr Corrigan, it might be quite a good idea to actually enquire as to your daughter's health, as I have noticed that is the one thing you've failed to do since you arrived in my school."

Corrigan looked as if he'd been slapped – few people ever dared to speak to him like that! He drew himself up to his full height, ready to let rip at the old wizard again – and then saw the steely look in his eyes. Dumbledore was not a man to be trifled with.

" How is she?" Corrigan asked stiffly.

" Your daughter very nearly died," Dumbledore told him. " She's back in the Slytherin Common Room, but she's spent the last few days in the Infirmary. She suffered multiple broken bones, cuts and bruises – and she was severely gored. Blood loss alone could have killed her, Mr Corrigan."

The colour seemed to drain from his face as the implications of Dumbledore's words sank in. He sank in to a chair beside Krupova.

After a few seconds he raised his face to look at the heavy-set man, and there was an almost haunted quality to his expression.

" I am sorry for your loss, Andrei," he said finally. The words were stiff and formal – hesitant, even – but they were spoken. Krupova's eyes opened a fraction wider with genuine surprise.

" Thank you, Benedict," he replied. " That – that means a lot to me. I hope your daughter makes a full recovery."

" There's little doubt of that," Dumbledore interjected. " Madam Pomfrey, our Healer, has declared her fit enough to go back to lessons if she takes them at an easy pace. The bruising may take a while to fade, though."

" May I see her?" Corrigan asked uncomfortably.

" Certainly," Dumbledore replied, " if she wishes to see _you_."

There was a strained, painful silence in the office until the hit wizards returned. When they did, it was as if there had never been a silence at all – the Petkov boys, Vladimir and Boris, were dragged kicking and squirming in to the office. They looked to be in their late teens. Their wands had been confiscated and they were magically bound and silenced, but the black looks of anger and rage on their faces were terrible and identical. Dumbledore turned to Giselle.

" How much of a threat do you think these two pose, Miss Marchford?" he asked, turning towards the head hit wizard.

" Quite a large one," she replied grimly. " It didn't take us too long to track them down – they'd found a few hidden passages and were holed up in them – but they fought like demons. Very animalistic. If this is what they're normally like then I shudder to think what their sister is like when she gets in a strop! They tried to hex us even after we'd taken their wands away."

" Vhat vill you do vith them?" Krupova asked, his haggard look stronger than ever.

" Well, they'll get a couple of months in Azkaban to start with, pending an investigation in to the whole of their family," Miss Marchford continued. She shot a dark look at the two restrained wizards. " They were trying to use some fairly Dark curses against us. It's time we had a little look at the rest of the family."

Corrigan was nodding grimly. " About time that family had a thorough Ministry investigation," he told them. " Never mind the fact that they're the richest, most powerful family in Russia. Nobody is above the law."

Krupova shot him a look, one which clearly told the British man that Krupova knew all about businessmen being above the law, and that he was looking at one right now. Corrigan had the grace to look slightly abashed, and cleared his throat.

Miss Marchford was grinning, however.

" Russkies don't frighten us at the Ministry," she replied. " Let them throw themselves at us Brits. We've got at least three thousand years of accumulated history and magical invention behind us. Oh, no offence, Mr Krupova."

He gave her a wan smile. " None taken, Miss Marchvood, none taken."

The woman took Dumbledore's hand and shook it. " Nice working with you, Dumbledore," she told him brusquely. " Nice bit of nostalgia to come back here."

" You were in…Ravenclaw, wasn't it, Miss Marchwood?"

She nodded. " You remembered!"

" I have a very _long_ memory," he replied. Smiling, he ushered her out of his office door. The rest of her hit wizards followed, dragging the struggling Petkov boys behind them.

When he returned Meredith was walking along behind him.

" Here's your daughter," Dumbledore told Corrigan gravely. " Mr Krupova, if you would please come with me…I will take you to your son."

Both Corrigan and Krupova got to their feet, and Meredith's father surprised Krupova again by clapping a supportive hand on his shoulder. He flashed him a brief smile of thanks before following Dumbledore out of his office. The old wizard closed his office door firmly behind him, leaving Meredith and Benedict Corrigan in complete silence.

They spent long seconds just looking at each other, taking in all the little changes that had occurred in the years they'd spent away from each other.

Meredith wasn't desperately shocked at her father's appearance; he seemed virtually unchanged from how she'd always remembered him – tall and solid. His hair was now completely steel grey and drawn back in a short, sleek, silky ponytail; there were more lines on his tanned face and his skin sagged a little, but that was all. To her, he was still the cold, unfeeling monster he'd been when she was five, desperately clinging to him for comfort after she'd seen her mother killed.

To Benedict's eyes, however, he saw that the girl child he'd wished had been a boy was all grown up. And she looked so like her mother! That same curly brown hair, falling in an untamed fall down to her shoulders; those same green eyes – well, they would have been green had she not been wearing those ridiculous cat's eye contact lenses! The same slim figure. Though she _was _a little shorter.

But now he was forced to look beyond that for perhaps the first time in his life. She walked with a slight but noticeable limp, and she moved slowly and stiffly. He saw large, fading bruises across parts of her face, neck and hands – in fact, any part of her exposed skin bore bruises. He was forced to confront the fact that his only daughter – his only legitimate child, the only offspring he acknowledged as his own – could have died, and very nearly did. It was not a pleasant realisation, and he felt confused. There were things he felt he ought to say but he didn't know where to begin.

" How old are you now, girl?" he began curtly, forcing the words out.

Meredith forced herself to remain impassive. She didn't know why her father was even bothering to see her – he'd never, ever visited her at Hogwarts before, and she couldn't imagine that it was any desire to see her safe and well that had prompted his visit this time.

And for him not to know how old his own daughter was!

Well, perhaps it wasn't all _that_ surprising. He'd shown her only the barest, briefest attention possible since her mother had died, and she'd long since realised that that was all she was ever going to get from him. She'd learned to distance herself from him, and from the concept that he was still her father; part of her mind tried to insist that she had no father.

" I'll be seventeen in April," she replied warily. She thought about adding something else but decided not to push her luck.

Silence. And then –

" I spoke to Professor Snape on the way up here from Hogsmeade," he continued.

" He says you consistently gain Outstanding levels in all your class tests, and are expected to gain them in your NEWT's as well."

Meredith couldn't stop her mouth twisting in to a self-deprecating sneer.

" Oh, you know me, father," she replied. " You told me to get perfect grades, so that's exactly what I'm doing."

He looked suddenly embarrassed, and rubbed the back of his neck with one hand. Meredith didn't know what to make of all this!

" Yes, about that," he told her, his voice hesitant. She'd never heard him sound like that before. " It's a condition of your inheritance, isn't it?"

She nodded warily. Was that why he was here? Was he going to cut her off completely from her inheritance?

" I – I've had a change of heart about that," he began. " I realise I have perhaps been a little unfair to you. Your inheritance is assured – you don't need to get perfect marks to get it."

Meredith's eyes opened wide with shocked, pleased surprise, and her lips parted as she tried to think of something to say.

" That isn't to say," he continued hastily, holding up a hand to forestall her, " that I will allow you to slack during your lessons. I still expect perfect marks. You're a very intelligent girl, Meredith."

Her mouth closed again and she sat down abruptly. Benedict clicked his fingers (as Dumbledore had done) and a full glass of rich brown-red firewhisky appeared beside him. He took a large sip. Seeing the look on his daughter's face, he offered the glass to her. She took a grateful sip, surprised again that he would even allow her to drink the whisky! It burned all the way down her throat before resting hotly in her stomach. Fortified, she realised she'd needed it more than she'd known.

" Thank you, father," she said after she'd gathered her wits. There was a wondering tone in her voice. " This means a lot to me." She swallowed convulsively.

Benedict ran a restless hand over his ponytail – Merlin's balls, this was hard! He hadn't intended to say what he had about her inheritance; he'd always maintained that she would have to work – and work damned hard – to earn any money from him. But…she was his daughter, and she'd nearly been killed. It seemed unfair to him that she should work so hard for nothing. He sat down in one of the chairs beside her.

" Meredith…this is hard for me, please understand that. I think the time has finally come for us to sit down and talk."

" So we're sitting down," she replied. " Let's talk. What do you want to talk about?" She was letting her mouth run now; she was aware that this was a dangerous thing to allow, but she had to chatter on to fill the awkward silence between them. She hadn't spent this much time in her father's company since before she'd come to Hogwarts.

" Shall we talk about how you demanded I marry a man I didn't know and didn't love, just to preserve the purity of our blood? Shall we talk about how he brought his own personal demons with him, and how they nearly killed me? Shall we talk about that? Or shall we talk about the fact that you've never been there for me, how you pushed me away when Mama died, how you didn't even seem to care that she'd been killed?"

There was a slightly hysterical edge to her voice but she didn't care. These words had been a lifetime in the making; they wouldn't be bottled up any more as they fought to get out.

" How dare you," Benedict replied icily. " I worked hard to put clothes on your back, to put food on the table and to provide for you and your mother. And this is the thanks I get!" His eyes were alight with anger, but that was an anger fully matched and overshadowed by the rage in Meredith's.

" Don't give me that," she spat. " You worked hard to put extra clothes in your own wardrobe, but you didn't even have to do that – you have money inherited from both sides of the family! We were never poor. We always did what was expected; we went to the right schools, we married the right people, we made the right connections. Both sides of family have been in Slytherin for generations! But this time doing what was expected of me nearly got me killed, and I'm not doing it anymore!"

Benedict glared at her. " You're still under seventeen. I could pull you out of your precious school, and what would you do then?"

" I don't know, but it would be something as far away from you as possible," she replied. " You can stop my education but you said it yourself, I'm an intelligent girl. I can make my own way. What would you have achieved then? You'd have driven me away. Just like you were driving Mama away."

" Your mother was wrecking our marriage!" Benedict growled. " She was always having affairs with other men – even Krupova-"

" No," Meredith interrupted. " I can't believe that – Mama would never have had affairs – she was a good woman-"

" She was one step up from a common whore!" he yelled furiously. " She never admitted to having affairs, but I knew she must be! Why wouldn't she? She was a beautiful woman; there were always men around her! Tell me that was just innocent!"

They were both on their feet by now, a foot apart as they screamed at each other.

" So men were around her all the time – so what! That doesn't prove anything. She couldn't help being beautiful! Would you have liked it better if she were a hag? And what about you, father? How many affairs did _you_ have? After all, you were always away – even before Mama died. Paris, Geneva, New York. Rome, Milan, Berlin. You were hardly ever home! I bet you had a woman in every city!" she accused hysterically. A thought struck her and she hurried on before Benedict had a chance to speak.

" How many brothers and sisters do I have, father?" she demanded. " How many illegitimate children did you beget on your women?"

" How the hell did you know about that?" Benedict whispered harshly. " Virtually nobody knows!"

All the colour drained from Meredith's face. " You're not denying it," she said in a normal tone of voice. " I – I was just lashing out at you, but you didn't deny it…"

Benedict pursed his lips – now was finally the time to come clean, and he wasn't relishing it. There were a lot of secrets in their family, and Meredith wouldn't like any of them.

" Look, Meredith…I need to tell you some things. Unpleasant things about our family…" He paused, searching for words. None of this came naturally to him.

Meredith forced herself to be quiet, gritting her teeth to keep her mouth shut. Her pale face was flushed and her hands were balled in to fists, clenching the olive material of her skirt. One of her rats poked his nose out of a low pocket near her hem, took one sniff of the emotionally charged air and leapt on to the flagstone floor. He scampered off towards a dark corner.

Benedict was alerted by the movement. Frowning, he looked down and followed the rat's progress across the floor.

" I don't recall you taking rats to Hogwarts," he said thoughtfully.

Her grip on her skirt tightened. " That's because you weren't around when I first came here," she replied. " I've got my own secrets, too. Yours first."

Benedict merely raised one eyebrow and a second later he began to speak.

" Your mother and I were married a few years after she left Hogwarts," he began.

" You know we both came to Hogwarts, don't you?" She nodded.

" It's weird, really, how similar twins lives are. Francesca and your Aunt Felicity were virtually living in each others pockets; when they got married, that didn't change much."

" Mama told me you had a joint wedding with her sister," she said cautiously.

Benedict nodded. " That's right. I married Francesca in a double ceremony. Felicity married your Uncle Gabriel on the same day."

" I know all this," Meredith remarked.

Benedict made a disgruntled noise. " I'm just trying to help you understand! Corrigans and Montagues have always been successful. The only difference is, Felicity has more children and, oh yes, she's still alive!"

Meredith coloured. " Sorry," she said stiffly. " Carry on."

Benedict made another noise, but he did continue.

" Your mother and her sister fell pregnant at the same time. You and your cousin were born on the same day, within minutes of each other, and you look very similar. There, I think, the similarities end. Felicity had two more children."

" The twins Gideon and Tobias," Meredith said. " They just started at Hogwarts this year."

" Just so. They may have all the advantages that you didn't, Meredith, but their lives are no more solid than yours – just like your mother and I, Felicity and Gabriel don't love each other. I know for a fact that they have affairs. It's what people of our class and blood do – it's not a thing to be proud of, but it happens and it's common."

" Isn't that what happens when people don't marry for love?" she asked, struggling to keep her voice level.

Benedict's throat worked as he fought to speak.

" Yes, Meredith, that _is_ what happens when people don't marry for love." He sighed. " Your mother and I lived virtually separate lives from the moment you were born. We kept trying for another child – I even had some magical help…but it didn't work. Your mother couldn't give me the son I wanted. The Healers told me our genes weren't all that compatible, and we were lucky to have you. I never saw it that way."

Meredith stayed silent. She didn't want to interrupt her father now, however much it might hurt to hear this.

" So I played away from home," he continued. The skin was stretched taut over his face – clearly this was hard for him to talk about, but he forced himself to carry on.

" You have one sibling," he told her. " Just one. I won't tell you who it is – not yet, anyway. Suffice it to say that it's a boy a few years older than yourself."

" Is he in this school? Do I know him? Is he in my House, have I talked to him?" she asked eagerly, a light shining in her eyes again.

The ghost of a smile crossed his face. " I'm not going to tell you that," he replied. She subsided.

" You have another cousin as well," he said.

" Another cousin? Aunt Felicity had another child?"

He shook his head. " No, not Felicity. We never told you this, your mother and I, but I had a little sister. Josephine. She was very pretty, full of life and enthusiasm."

" What did she look like?" Meredith asked in fascination.

" She didn't look much like a Corrigan, I'll tell you that," her father replied. " She was tiny and perfect, with long blonde hair. Very straight. The most sparkling pair of blue eyes…traditionally, Corrigans have been tall and dark. She was petite and fair. She did, however, have the Corrigan nose…and the Corrigan stubborn streak," he finished on a bitter note.

" What do you mean?"

" Our parents had already picked out her future husband before she'd finished school. They told Josephine of their choice a few days before her final End of Term Feast. She hated the idea of an arranged marriage even more than I'm sure you do, and none of our parents threats would get her to change her mind."

Benedict sighed. " She ran away and travelled until she met a man called Gregory. He was working as a dragon tamer in Romania when he met my sister. They fell in love and married. Of course, when my parents found out about it, they disowned her."

" And my cousin?"

" She was born when you were three," Benedict replied. " But Gregory was eaten by a dragon shortly after her birth, and her mother died of a broken heart. She would have gone in to an orphanage…but I paid to have her placed with a foster family who love her just as much as her real parents did."

" Can you tell me who she is?" she asked excitedly.

Benedict gave her a long, searching look. " On one condition. You must promise not to tell her that you're related – she doesn't know, and it would upturn her whole life to find out."

Meredith nodded solemnly. " I understand, and I promise. I know what it's like to have your life upset."

Benedict swallowed. " It's Lenora Dewitt. I believe she's in Gryffindor."

Meredith thought hard for a moment, and eventually came up with a face – long and thin, a mass of straight blonde hair and bright blue eyes. She must look a lot like her birth mother, she supposed, and promised herself to take a proper – if discreet – look at the girl the next time she saw her. Lenora was a fourth year.

" I need to tell you about the day your mother died," Benedict continued on a harsh note. Meredith paid him close attention.

" We argued on that day," he continued. " We argued pretty much whenever we saw each other. You weren't even supposed to be there – the only reason we brought you along was because our previous nanny had left us to have her own child, and we hadn't had time to find you a new one yet. Even though your mother insisted you didn't need one." His eyes left her face and Meredith thought he might be looking inwards, reliving the past.

" We rowed about you being there, about the business deal I was trying to pull off, and about Krupova." His face twisted. " She may or may not have been having an affair with him. She claimed she wasn't, but I know he kept pestering her because he was there that day. She was there for Acromantula silk for her research. I let her do that, providing it didn't interfere with my own work."

" You let her research. How noble of you. How very _modern_."

He shot her a look. " The women of our class, Meredith, do not need to work to earn a living. They don't perform menial tasks like gardening, and they don't go in to dangerous situations and get themselves killed."

" Even if it's what they enjoy doing?" she asked softly. " What about if they don't like to sit meekly by while their husbands go out to work; what if they don't want to just be an attractive ornament on their arm at parties? What if they want to have a life of their own?" Her voice was getting bitter.

" That's never been the way it was done," her father replied stiffly.

An angry light flickered in her eyes again. " Well, it's the way it's going to be done now! I'm not marrying anyone unless I love them!" she raged, storming towards the door of Dumbledore's office. She didn't want to hear anything else Benedict had to say!

She tried to wrench open the door but it wouldn't move – it held fast as if locked. Making a frustrated noise she wheeled back towards the desk and flung herself in the chair.

" So I'm stuck here with you until Dumbledore gets back," she spat, glaring at the older man.

A pained look crossed his face. " Meredith, please…" he implored, reaching a hand out towards her.

That one word – please – coming from such a distant man was enough to stop her in her tracks. She fell silent.

" I need to finish telling you about that day," he began. " I – I know I've been…distant towards you. I've been a – well, a – bad father, I suppose…never there…I want to try and make it right…"

Her eyes opened wide with amazement. Had she just heard him right? Had she heard him admit to being the cold man she'd always known him to be?

And that he wanted to change!

She tilted her head slightly to one side, a questioning look on her face.

" There's a reason why I agreed to an arranged marriage between you and Aleksandar Krupova," he continued after a long minute. Sweat was beginning to bead his brow.

" Andrei Krupova was in the jungle at the same time as your mother – though I've never found out why," he told her. " When the Acromantula attacked her, he tried to get to her before – before it was too late. But he failed. I don't know if you remember this?"

She was nodding slowly, faint tears brimming her eyes. She held them back by force of will.

" He – he rescued me and brought Mama's body back to camp," she took up the story. " You were arguing with him, and you wouldn't – you didn't-" She shook her head, briefly covering her eyes with one hand.

" I turned to you for comfort and you p-pushed me away," she stammered slowly, her eyes locking with his. " After that, I don't know."

Was that the glimmer of tears in his own eyes?

" The truth is that Krupova is a ruthless bastard," he murmured. " He'd do anything to maintain his family fortunes. At the time, he was facing bankruptcy. It wasn't common knowledge. When he brought you back to me, he expected some sort of reward…like taking the contracts that I'd just won from the cartel."

" Petkov, Dinev and Angelova?"

He nodded. " The same. And he wanted his son to marry you, when you came of age, to ensure his family fortunes stayed high. I know that he was getting more and more desperate as you grew older – he was losing money like water through a sieve. He – the only reason I agreed to go along with his ridiculous plans was because he knew the identity of my…other child."

" So you felt trapped," Meredith told him. " Like you had to give in?"

He nodded again. " At the time I cursed everyone – him for being there, you for being a girl, and your mother for getting us all in to the stupid mess. And as you grew up it got worse – you looked more like Francesca every day, so I would spend weeks at a time away from home." He paused and sighed. " I missed seeing you grow up – what kind of a father does that make me?"

" That never seemed to bother you before."

" I've been a blind, stubborn fool, Meredith, proud of my ways and my people. It didn't bother me that you'd nearly been killed that first time by the giant spiders. And the second time when you were almost trampled and gored…I was just angry at the lack of security at Hogwarts, rather than worrying about your personal safety." He shook his head.

" It took a stern telling off by Dumbledore to make me realise just what a fool I've been. You're my little girl, my only daughter – all that's left of me. You're intelligent and, Cook assures me, you're witty, elegant, refined and curious – all the things a young woman should be. You've grown up, and I missed it."

There were definite tears in Meredith's eyes now but she ignored them; she let them trickle down her face.

" But you're here now, father," she replied tentatively, unsure how to proceed. Never could she have imagined that this might happen!

" I've never told you this but…I _do_ love you, Meredith. And I'm proud of you. You've got the best parts of both your parents."

Meredith couldn't help herself – they were the words she'd longed to hear all her life, words that she'd only dreamed about hearing, and it seemed to unleash the floodgates of emotion that she'd kept so tightly damned since her mother died. She jumped to her feet and threw herself at her father, wrapping her arms around him and clinging on for dear life. Surprised but grateful, he put his arms around her shoulders and tried his best to comfort her, gently patting her back; she clung to him with all the desperation she'd felt when her mother's body was lying on the ground attracting flies, when the two men had argued, when her whole life order had been turned upside down…

The storm of her tears finally abated after a timeless period, but she still kept hold of her father. He held her back a little ways from him so that he could look down in to her face; lovingly, he wiped the tears from her eyes.

" Your mother loved you when she was alive," he told her. " But she's dead…so it's time for me to love you now."


	16. Chapter 16

**BOOK FOUR**

**CHAPTER ONE**

_Bright morning star's arising_

_Bright morning star's arising_

_Bright morning star's arising_

_Day is a-breaking in my soul_

_Oh where are out dear mothers_

_Oh where are our dear mothers_

_Where are our dear mothers_

_Day is a-breaking in my soul_

_They are down in the valley praying_

_They are down in the valley praying_

_They are down in the valley praying_

_Day is a-breaking in my soul_

_Oh where are our dear fathers_

_Oh where are our dear fathers_

_Oh where are our dear fathers_

_Day is a-breaking in my soul_

_They have gone to heaven shouting_

_They have gone to heaven shouting_

_They have gone to heaven shouting_

_Day is a-breaking in my soul_

_Bright morning star's arising_

_Bright morning star's arising_

_Bright morning star's arising_

_Day is a-breaking in my soul_

– _Bright Morning Star, by the Oysterband_

The rest of that day was an emotional one. Dumbledore returned to them a short while later and although he didn't say anything revealing, there was a knowing glint in his eyes that could only mean he was aware of what had passed between father and daughter.

He explained to them that Krupova had left Hogwarts with the body of his son, and that the hit wizards had left too – taking the Petkov boys with them. Meredith wasn't sorry to see them go.

" Lessons for the rest of this day have been cancelled, Miss Corrigan," Dumbledore continued. " I have an appointment with some ministry officials later on today – they wish to know how unwanted visitors could have gained entrance to the castle, which is a question I myself would like to know the answer to. The professors are combing the castle now to find traces of them."

He didn't look too worried, but Meredith knew differently – when students had been attacked by a basilisk a few years ago, parents had called for Dumbledore to be relieved from duty. He had been temporarily replaced last year as the ghastly Dolores Umbridge reigned supreme – the Ministry had finally got its claws in the school. Though Dumbledore was back now, there was no way of knowing how secure his job was, and it would be awful if he were to be replaced again.

" If you need my help for anything, Professor Dumbledore, just let me know," Meredith told him.

" That goes for me as well," her father added. Dumbledore gave the man a surprised, grateful smile.

" I imagine there must be any number of things you and your daughter would like to catch up on," the old man told them. " Might I suggest you finish up your day in Hogsmeade? It's chilly weather outside, but The Three Broomsticks serves an admirable butterbeer – or something stronger, if you wanted it." His eyes twinkled.

" Let me escort you out of my office."

Benedict was only too happy to spend the rest of the day with Meredith. When they reached the Entrance Hall they paused, allowing her to perform a Summoning Charm on her warm cloak. They chatted amiably as they walked down to the little village of Hogsmeade; Meredith talked about her rats in detail, explaining her breeding program and showing him one of the rats who'd scampered in to a low pocket as she was crossing the Hall. He was impressed, and she beamed with happiness – he'd never shown any interest in her work before, and he'd certainly never praised her for it.

Over drinks in The Three Broomsticks they talked about her schoolwork. He only knew that she had perfect grades. He didn't even know _what_ she was taking, so she was only too happy to fill him in. She left out the occasional kisses she'd shared with Derrick, their gardener, and her secret relationship with Conan – her father appeared to be a changed man, but she didn't want to test his patience too much.

Lastly they talked about her plans for a magical research centre, and in this, he seemed genuinely and keenly interested – but more in financing it than seeing any actual work, but she wasn't surprised. He had a nose for money matters, and he could always be trusted to give sound advice. Meredith listened.

Before she even went about building the place she would need to gain approval from the Ministry of Magic. This, perhaps, would be her greatest challenge – they already had a Department of Mysteries at Ministry Headquarters and would probably be unwilling to allow her to build another place for mysteries – Unmentionables worked there, so called because nobody knew just what they did.

Meredith had already had some thoughts about how she would set wheels in motion, so she was able to present an eloquent argument to her father's point. The Department of Mysteries, she said, was presumably used to delve in to magical mysteries; items which weren't understood, old magic which could be brought up to date. In short, things which probably wouldn't be useful to the wizarding masses as a whole. These things were achievable, with hard work, in her own lifetime – Dumbledore himself had discovered the twelve used of dragons blood. Many things were possible.

Her Research Centre, however, would be focussed around more mundane things – potion development, exploring the uses of ingredients and finding new ones; developing charms and counter-curses and generally trying to make a wizards life easier. It was a different market entirely.

The argument seemed to satisfy her father, and then he moved on to the location of her Centre – where would she put it?

" It would need a large piece of land, with room to develop further if necessary," she replied. " I was thinking of buying a piece of land, but I haven't got any preferences yet."

" You could use the estate in Hampshire," her father told her mildly. " It's enormous, and you could renovate the mansion to suit your needs. It's got several existing wings and plenty of land."

She gave him a careful look. " But that's your home," she told him.

He smiled gently. " No, it's your home – or at least, it will be when I make that amendment to my will," he replied. " You spent most of your childhood there, so it's more your home now than mine. I rarely spend more than one or two months out of every six there."

She touched him arm with gratitude. " Thanks, Dad," she replied, and it occurred to them both in that moment that it was the first time in her life that she'd ever called him 'Dad'. The touch on his arm tightened, and he clasped her arm in return.

The next topic of conversation was funding – money going in to and out of the Research Centre. Meredith had thought of this, too – she would need an initial injection of Galleons, but she was hoping that eventually the place would pay for itself. But she was cautious about this – she realised that she would have to pay staff and overhead bills on the site itself, and eventually she'd like to branch off in to research on magical animals. A lot of common research materials could be grown in the grounds, but she would have to pay for rarer, more exotic items, and they would be a further expense. And she would have to pay first a licensing fee and then regular tax to the Ministry itself. These costs would not come cheap, and could easily overwhelm her unless she was extremely canny.

Meredith found the potential costs involved daunting, but she _was_ her father's daughter, and manipulating money came relatively easily to her. Although it was a research centre she wanted to found, she would have to run it like a business. Once the properties of ingredients had been fully researched experiments could be run to combine them in different ways, at different times of the year, under different moons…the research possibilities were endless. And products could then be patented and sold, or they could sell them to other companies to manufacture. Again, the Ministry would probably take a cut of their profits, but she hoped those profits would be large.

" Here's a tip for you," Benedict told her after listening to her initial business plan.

" If you make a significant, marketable breakthrough, keep the patent. Market the product yourself. Set up a company to sell it – better yet, set up a company anyway. That way, you can market your products as and when they've been researched, and you can fund further research."

" You're a genius!" Meredith exclaimed, drawing sidelong glances from some of the other drinkers.

Benedict looked slightly embarrassed. " No genius here – just decades of business experience. Speaking of businesses, I should ask you about my own."

Meredith gave him a questioning look. "What do you mean?"

Benedict coughed slightly. " I won't live forever, Meredith. When I'm – when I'm gone, it passes to you. You can choose to amalgamate it with the one you're going to set up, or you can sell it. Either way, it's your choice."

Meredith ran a hand through her curly hair. " That's a lot to take on, you know. Running a full-blown company, one that's well established and been running for a long time…I don't know. That's a lot to live up to."

Benedict shrugged. " Well, it's your choice. Perhaps it _would_ be easier if I sold my company and gave you the proceeds from the sale – I've got more than enough money to comfortably retire on."

She smiled. " Wow, I never thought you'd ever sell your business. You've always been so…driven."

He returned that smile. " Let's just say that circumstances have changed my priorities."


	17. Chapter 17

**CHAPTER TWO**

Meredith shared the whole tale with her two best friends Ophelia and Mariana much later that night over a midnight feast in their beds. Meredith was on a high one moment, and then she sunk down in to a low again the next moment – she was ecstatic that she'd made up with her father and over the moon that he was taking an active interest in her life, but that was tempered by the fact that her fiancé had been murdered. She hadn't known him that well and she certainly hadn't loved him, but if he hadn't come to Hogwarts he wouldn't have died. She felt responsible.

" Nonsense," the ever-practical Ophelia told her as she munched on a Chocolate Frog. She made a face when she saw the Card; she already had that one, and flicked it at Mariana. The dark-haired girl caught it with one hand.

" None of it's your fault," the blonde girl continued. " Really, if it's anyone's fault, it's Krupova Senior's. It's not your fault Aleksandar came to Hogwarts. It's not Aleks' fault he had a relationship with Katalina Petkov-"

" Yes it was," Mariana interrupted, swallowing her mouthful of Every Flavour Beans.

Ophelia made a face. " Well, it _was_, but he was only doing what every teenage boy would do, given the chance. I saw pictures of Katalina in one of the Russian papers when my parents went out there for Christmas last year – she really is a beautiful girl."

" And psychotic," Mariana added.

" And psychotic. But, not Aleks' fault that he died. And it certainly wasn't your father's fault – from what you told us, he was blackmailed in to making that arranged marriage agreement. So, none of it was your fault."

Meredith knew it was the truth, but that feeling of guilt still lingered over her, and after her friends had finally gone to sleep she allowed herself to give in to her grief and cried silent tears before she drifted off.

The Daily Prophet the next day was filled with details of the Petkov boys' attacks, and of Aleksandar's death. Meredith stayed away from it, ignoring the whispered conversations of the fellow students wherever possible. It wasn't common knowledge that they had been engaged – in fact, only Ophelia and Mariana knew about it – but people knew they'd been close, so there was speculation. Meredith ignored it and carried on with her lessons.

But for Benedict, there was a worse shock to come, one that only managed a brief mention in the Prophet and virtually no gossip.

Andrei Krupova committed suicide.

To the reporters and the rest of the world, it was a tragic accident – he was sorting some raw ingredients for sale, and he'd mixed up Acromantula venom with the Pepper-Up Potion he was taking for a cold…it was a quick, nasty way to die.

Only Benedict knew the truth of it, and it was a truth he made a conscious decision to keep from his daughter. He vowed the secret would die with him.

The last act Andrei Krupova performed before drinking poison was to write a short letter to Benedict. It was written in a heavy, scrawled script that looked as if the hand that had written it was trembling at the time. Blotts of ink stained the thick parchment and there were many crossings out, as if Andrei had had trouble finding the right words.

_Benedict,_ it began, _these words do not come easily to me…but I have lived with my guilt for too many years now._

_My wife is dead. She died shortly after I returned home – the shock of loosing her son proved too great for her; long term illness has left her weak and this was more than she could handle. My wife is dead, and so is my son…and it's all my fault. I should never have forced you in to agreeing to that marriage contract. I should have been content with taking your contracts…not that they did me any good in the long run. My fortunes are as poor now as they were twelve years ago._

_There is nothing left for me to live for…I have grown old and tired. A man should not live to see his own son die…and I have had enough._

_Now that I have decided my own time has come, I feel it is time to tell you the truth about what happened on the day your wife died. It is a secret I have carried with me all this time, a shameful secret and one that I have regretted since the day it happened._

_Francesca was after Acromantula silk that day, and she had paid some native men to guide her in to the territory of a pack she'd once done a favour for. She was a beautiful woman…strong and passionate, and I loved her. I begged her to have a relationship with me but she refused time and time again – however she felt about you at the time, she never had an affair. Especially with me…but I was so in love with her! _

_She turned me down every time I begged her. The last time was that day in the jungle, and I…I flipped. I told her that if I couldn't have her then nobody could. I meant to kill her, Benedict._

_I put the Imperius Curse on the native guides and commanded them to guide her in to the territory of an Acromantula pack that despised her…I wanted her dead and I got my wish._

_I had a change of heart and realised the wrong that I was doing and I tried to save her…but I was too late. I was only able to rescue your daughter._

_So it's my fault Francesca died – I killed her. I tried to forget it but it's haunted me over the years. My guilt has grown. Now my wife is dead, and my son died through my own greed._

_Now I'm making it all end. Hate me if you want to, Benedict – Merlin knows I hate myself. Everybody will think my death was an accident, but I wanted you to know the truth – all of the truth._

_Goodbye, Benedict._

His hand curled in to a fist around the piece of parchment, screwing it up tightly. His face was an impassive mask, but a fire blazed in his eyes.

He threw the screwed up parchment across the room of his study, towards the open fireplace.

It burst alight in midair and the ashes fluttered harmlessly down on to the carpet.


	18. Chapter 18

**CHAPTER THREE**

Meredith's physical healing was complete by the end of the next day, thanks to Madam Pomfrey's potions. People were still gossiping about Aleksandar's death, but those rumours were gradually being replaced by more pressing matters – the Halloween Ball!

In times past Hogwarts had just hosted a simple party, with lots of lavish food and some extra decorations, but the Yule Ball that was held two years ago had been so popular that Dumbledore finally decided to revive the tradition for Christmas, Halloween and Easter. Three Balls a year would keep all the students happy and relaxed, especially the Easter Ball – with exams only a few months after that, any chance for both the students and teachers to relax would be a godsend.

Talk turned pressingly and urgently to clothes. Dress robes were the order of the day; they had been included in the equipment list for every student, but of course no student wanted to wear the same set for each Ball throughout the year, especially the more fashion conscious amongst them. And now, with less than a fortnight to go, people were getting frantic.

Perhaps even more frantic than the search for that elusively perfect gown was the search for an escort to the Ball – this wasn't a big deal for third years and below, but fourth years and above wouldn't be seen dead without a partner and rivalries were intense.

Meredith herself wasn't particularly bothered about finding a partner – she didn't even particularly want to go, but both Ophelia and Mariana insisted. They were both going with seventh-years Slytherins who'd asked them weeks before; nobody had yet asked Meredith. They felt she ought to be annoyed by this – she was a very pretty girl, they told her. All Meredith really wanted was just to curl up in bed with a book.

But they eventually managed to persuade her to come, and a few days before the Ball Perry, Gus and Viktor all asked her to go with them. She turned them down politely; none of them particularly interested her although they had brilliant (if filthy) minds.

But she did wonder about those minds, sometimes…especially when Perry was sitting at the breakfast table making goat noises, and Gus and Viktor were singing an extremely rude song about mermaids and lost mariners.

Two days before the Ball, Meredith received a letter from her father. She opened it eagerly – she'd taken up regular correspondence with him and he seemed just as pleased as she was.

She read it eagerly. He explained how he'd finally sold his business – when he mentioned just how much money he'd got for it, her eyes widened and she had to bite her tongue to stop herself whistling with delighted surprise. He went on to tell her that he was putting the money in to her Gringott's account along with sixteen years worth of pocket money that she'd never received; the account would become accessible to her when she came of age and she could use it to set up her own company and Research Centre.

She leaned back in her seat, taking a sip of the coffee she always had for breakfast.

" I love that man, I really do," she remarked to herself.

But she frowned as she read on. The tone of his letter grew darker.

_I must urge you to use caution now, my dear_, he continued. _We've never been threatened before by He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named – back in the days of the first war, my family and your mother's stayed well out of it. We didn't take sides – we were neutral, like Switzerland. It was much safer that way. And of course it was much better for business when the Potter boy made the Avada Kedavra curse backfire on the Dark Lord – with him gone, people were in a more spending kind of mood._

_But there can be no doubting now that the Dark Lord has returned. Muggles and wizards alike are being killed or going missing, and we can't ignore the signs – even though the Ministry would like to bury its head in the sand over the matter. Getting rid of that idiot Fudge was perhaps the best thing they could do; Scrimgeour gets things done._

_I know you and your fellow students are somewhat insulated from common events, though I know many of you read the Daily Prophet. Do you read the Quibbler, by any chance? The man who runs it – Lovegood – is barking mad, but he _did_ run the true story of the Dark Lord's return._

_He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was never a man to wait too long. I think danger is coming to Hogwarts soon, so you must be on your guard, especially after the visit I had today – a couple came to see me, old friends of the family. Do you remember the Hazzards? You probably won't – you were only just one when they were sent to Azkaban. Followers of the Dark Lord, apparently, and I can well believe it. They were released after a few years and not heard from since…until today._

_They came on the pretence of renewing old friendships, but I know better. They were very interested in _you_. Asked me all sorts of questions about you – what you were studying, how your grades were, where your sympathies lay. They weren't desperately subtle._

_They were trying to get me to recruit you, Meredith, for the Dark Lord, because you're shaping up to be a very powerful witch. I learned also today that they'd been speaking to your Aunt Felicity about Morgana and her boys for just the same reason, so I've asked Felicity to write them a similar letter to warn them. _

_I sent the Hazzards on their way. I made it very clear that they weren't welcome on my lands any more – they got very angry and I had to forcibly evict them._

_Be careful, my dear – keep your friends close and keep an eye out._

_Your loving father._

Meredith reread the letter several times. It was definitely something to consider – her father was right, all the students _were_ very isolated here. Hogwarts was in the wilds of Scotland, far from the lights of London, protected by terrain and magic alike.

She wanted to say that the castle was entirely safe, but that just wasn't true anymore, despite Dumbledore's and the Ministry's best efforts – a Dark Wizard had brought a rampaging troll in to the corridors in their first year, and in their second year a basilisk had attacked several students. They'd had a werewolf for a teacher (personally Meredith didn't have a problem with this; she'd found Lupin to be very approachable as a human, and if she'd known before he left that he was a werewolf she'd have tried to make him her best friend) and the castle had been patrolled by the soulless Dementors of Azkaban.

Year four hadn't been any safer – the Tri-Wizard Tournament, a Death Eater masquerading as a teacher and the return of the Dark Lord. And year five had brought with it the terrors of dealing with human monsters like Umbridge.

So, the castle wasn't the safe haven that everybody thought it was, though the illusion still remained. Was that just because of the nature of magic itself? Or was there something else at play?

She decided eventually that it was all down to the Potter boy. The events were focussed around him – and hardly surprising, since he'd been the downfall of the greatest Dark Lord for centuries! The sooner He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was dealt with, the better.

But she put such thoughts out of her mind for the time being. The Halloween Ball was imminent, and since her friends had persuaded her to come, she might as well try to enjoy herself.

The Ball was on a Saturday, and some people spent all afternoon getting ready. Meredith was more pragmatic about things – she wouldn't flutter around for ages trying to decide if she should have her hair this way or that, or what make up to wear. She was ready in about half an hour and still waiting for Ophelia and Mariana to get ready.

She used the time to study her reflection in one of the full-length mirrors in the Slytherin Common Room. She was satisfied with her image – whilst others might say she looked truly beautiful, she would be happy settling for pretty.

She'd applied heavy mascara to her naturally dark lashes; her contact lenses this evening were grey, and they were outlined with dark eyeliner and shadow. Her lipstick was a rich plum, and the whole effect combined to give her eyes a smoky, ethereal look that Ophelia later told her were take-me-to-bed eyes. She'd piled her curls up on top of her head; two wispy curls dangled down to frame her face.

Her gown had been a gift from her father and she loved it. It was made from soft lilac silk; the sleeves were deeply flared around her wrists and the cuffs, hem and straight neckline were all trimmed with thin bands of silver.

Over the gown she wore a tailored surcoat of deep, royal purple velvet. The silver trim theme was continued around the arm openings, and a narrow silver chain rested lightly on her hips.

The shoes had been a gift from Mariana, once she'd seen what Meredith was wearing – high stilettos in the same colour as the surcoat. She half-suspected she might break an ankle in them but she'd been doing ok so far.

Five minutes rummaging in her enchanted jewellery box had produced simple, elegant silver earrings and a matching necklace. They caught in the candle and torch light, sparkling like stars against the darkness of her hair and surcoat.

Dave had insisted he go with her to the Ball, and Lucas the rat had looked at her with those tiny black eyes until she'd given in and told him he could go too. But she'd made the effort to make both animals fit in – nobody else was taking their pet!

Both bird and rat had been given seriously reluctant baths. Now Dave's raven-feathers reflected the light in just the right way – Meredith could see iridescent greens and purples, and occasionally the flash of white as he glided across the room towards her. He'd even submitted to having a tiny white bow tie fastened around his neck.

" I look like a freaking penguin," he'd cawed after seeing his reflection.

" Nonsense," Meredith laughed. " _I_ think you look very handsome. Your wife will love you even more when you go back to the nest tonight."

" The missus is going to laugh her bloody tail feathers off," he grumbled, but there was an amused glint in his black eyes.

Lucas, too, sported a bow tie, a smart grey one that matched the grey parts of his fur.

But taking pets could cause another problem – they both had sharp claws, and there was the very real risk that they could pull out threads from her surcoat and gown when they perched on her shoulders. The solution was a few hours spent in the Library, looking for a spell to protect clothes. She'd found it, eventually, in an obscure book written by a highborn woman who'd bred dogs and hawks for hunting.

Her friends were ready a short time later and laughingly met her in the Common Room; they complimented each other on their gowns.

There was a slight awkwardness a few minutes later when Ophelia and Mariana's escorts turned up. The older Slytherin boys were confident and self-assured, and they had flashy smiles for all three girls.

" You go ahead of me," Meredith flapped her hands at them all. " I intend to become close friends with the food tables. Go on, don't worry about me."

" I can't believe nobody asked you to go with them," Mariana whispered as she passed her friend. " You look gorgeous."

Meredith smiled. " I expect the books are a turn-off. No one likes a geek, however pretty."

Mariana's escort, a tall, handsome boy by the name of Jacob Barthis, shook his head – he'd overheard them.

" I hate to interrupt, but that's not quite true. I know at least four seventh-years who wanted to ask you, but they were sure you'd turn them down."

Meredith shook her head, a faint smile on her face.

" Trust me, I'm flattered, but I'm really not that interested in dating at the moment."

Mariana rolled her eyes and went down to the Great Hall.

The huge doors to the Great Hall were wide open, but students were only being allowed in singly or in pairs. Hagrid introduced each student as they entered; he was wearing a suit and had used…something…to slick back his bushy hair with, but it was clear that the hair was winning. Meredith strongly suspected that something was nesting in it.

" I bet I could get a meal out of whatever's hiding in his hair," Dave cawed softly as they waited to go in. He was perched comfortably on her left shoulder, whilst Lucas was sitting on his haunches on her right shoulder. He used one pink paw to lightly brace himself against her ear, and the other to clean his whiskers with. The bow ties on both animals seemed to have been forgotten, but they did make them look rather dashing.

Finally Meredith was announced, and heads turned her way when she walked in to the massive room.

The room had been tremendously well decorated. The four student tables were pushed to the edges of the room to allow space in the middle for dancing; the teachers' long table was now round and sitting comfortably in one corner. The Professors were already installed; McGonagall was wearing rich, emerald green robes. Sprout wore what looked to be a dark green tent and Flitwick was dashingly dressed in russet. Snape, as usual, was dressed in well-tailored black, but when Meredith was able to take a closer look she noticed it was an iridescent fabric – much like a well-scrubbed raven's wing. It glinted and glimmered in the bright torch light.

Dumbledore was handsomely dressed in pale, icy green robes that flowed around him, and his beard was adorned with a silver clip. He was raising a toast to the other Professors as Meredith walked to find a place at the Slytherin table. Perry, Gus and Viktor were already there, telling rude jokes, stuffing their faces and making a bizarre selection of animal noises. Meredith shook her head and began to fill her own plate with delicacies.

" Hey, Corrigan!" somebody called from over at the Gryffindor table. " Is that filthy bird the best you could do for an escort?"

Meredith gave the boy a cool glance.

" I dare say he'll make a much better partner than yours," she replied, giving the girl beside him her bitchiest, haughtiest look, " and I'm sure he makes far better conversation."

She turned her back on the pair, hiding a smile as she heard a chorus of jeers and catcalls from both the Slytherin and Gryffindor tables – clearly she had support!

" Come on, Meredith, just one pair of eyeballs," Dave begged.

Meredith grinned. " No. But if you happen to be flying over him some time next week, you might quite like to have a sudden shockingly upset stomach."

" I like the way you think," Dave laughed. The harsh cawing drew looks from the other diners, but she ignored them.

Now, as people were eating, Meredith took the time to fully look around her. The Hall was lavishly decorated with a clearly gothic theme; the enchanted ceiling revealed a cloud-covered sky, thunder was rumbling outside and the occasional flash of lighting illuminated the clouds. Every now and again the full moon showed its face before sliding back in to hiding.

Dark drapes hung on the walls in between torches – there were no hanging candles today, giving the whole room an almost gloomy atmosphere that just added to the gothic Halloween theme. Carved pumpkins adorned every table and small, bright candles within them provided pools of illumination. Live bats fluttered around the Hall singly or in swarms; their chittering provided a soft counterpoint to the many conversations taking place. There was a small raised platform towards the rear of the Hall, where the teachers' table once sat. It was empty and Meredith speculated what it might be used for as she handed titbits up to Dave and Lucas.

Half an hour later, when the first of the diners were showing signs of slowing down (Perry and his friends were still going strong and looked like they could quite comfortably eat for the rest of the evening), Dumbledore rose and clapped his hands for attention. The students fell silent and looked at him.

" My dear students," he began, " this Halloween Ball is the first of what I hope will be many such events to come in the future. In the midst of dark times, it is important to remember that good times are still possible, and more than that, important – they are times to truly relax with our friends and loved ones. It was to that end that I reintroduced the tri-yearly Balls, and again it is to that end that I have hired a permanent in-house group of musicians. The Grindylows will be playing at each Ball. I have spoken to my Professors, and we have also decided it would be a good idea to introduce another extra-curricular activity – music lessons will be open to any student who wishes to participate. We already have an existing choir run very successfully by Professor Flitwick, but we have been neglecting the instrumental side of the musical craft. Instruments will be provided for those who wish to learn; they will also be teaching traditional singing as accompaniment. The first sessions will take place on Monday after the evening meal, and will run thereafter at the same time every school day." Dumbledore smiled. " They will rest at the weekends, just as the rest of us poor, humble teachers do. All I ask of you is that you write down your names when you go and see them so that they can sort out a schedule – they cannot teach you all at once, alas."

The was a rumble of laughter from the seated students, and an excited murmur ran from table to table – there'd never been lessons like this before. Meredith had read _Hogwarts: A History_ many times, and there had never been any mention of music lessons. If it were successful, perhaps they would introduce it as a proper time tabled lesson? But it didn't have much to do with magic, she mused. Maybe she'd check out the band, if she liked them, but she didn't think she had much musical talent.

" And now I shall introduce them all!" Dumbledore continued as five men entered through a side door. They carried a variety of instruments and the last man had obviously cast a Locomotor spell on the drum kit that floated along behind him.

Heads turned and the whispers intensified as the band took their places on the stage.

" The lead singer of the Grindylows, Martin Grimwood," Dumbledore said.

Grimwood was quite a short man, Meredith decided; she was five foot six herself, and she guessed he wasn't much more than an inch or two taller. His hair was very short and bright blonde, and he was very slightly pigeon-chested. He wore an open black robe, a black t-shirt and black trousers; his boots were heavy and, unsurprisingly, black. In his hands he carried a rectangular instrument that Meredith recognised as an accordion. Her nose wrinkled with mild disdain – the Wyrd Sisters had played here for the Tri-Wizard Yule Ball, and they'd been a lot more rocking than this new band. Still, she shouldn't judge them before they'd played.

" Daire Blane!"

Daire was very tall and thin, and looked to be in his mid to late thirties. His hair was scruffy and the colour of straw; stubble made his cheeks rough. He wore a red shirt and dark trousers and had a guitar slung over one shoulder. He carried what looked like a cello, holding it carefully like it was a treasured member of the family. To him, perhaps it was.

" Liam Tefler!"

Liam was even taller than Daire, but there all resemblance ended – he was a dour-faced man in his sixties with short dark hair, dressed in black robes similar to those of Professor Snape's. He carried a fiddle. He looked a like a _mean_ fiddler.

" Eric Neville!"

Eric was taller than Martin but shorter than both Daire and Liam, and he was on the portly side. Wiry, copper-coloured hair was cut short on his head and trimmed neatly in to a beard on his chin; he wore a grey shirt and dark trousers with eye-smarting multi-coloured braces. Like Daire, he too had a guitar slung over one shoulder but he was carrying a banjo as well.

" Last but certainly not least, Cuspidor Smith!"

Cuspidor Smith was an odd little man, and Meredith's eyes lingered on him as he settled himself behind his drums. He was very short, even shorter than Martin, and he was completely bald.

His dress sense was…eclectic. He wore big, chunky boots and thick grey socks that were rolled down so that just the tops were peeking over his boots. His legs were skinny and he wore a bright red tartan kilt; a dark, chunky waistcoat sat over a white shirt. All in all he made for a peculiar figure, and Meredith was still wondering how popular the Grindylows would be…right up until the moment when Cuspidor picked up his drum sticks and slammed them down on the drums. Liam and his fiddle launched in to the melody whilst Daire and Eric played a rhythmic counterpoint on their guitars…

…and then Martin Grimwood opened his mouth to sing.

From that moment on, Meredith was lost to the song. They were playing a traditional muggle song about the coming of summer – what was essentially folk music – but they were injecting it with passion and power and a skill that took her breath away. Martin's voice was deep with a northern twang and she closed her eyes as she listened.

When the final chords were played applause broke out throughout the Hall, from student and teacher alike, and there were immediate calls for more songs.

Meredith was more than sure that the Grindylows would be a success at Hogwarts.


	19. Chapter 19

**CHAPTER FOUR**

The Ball became more of a party now, with student couples getting up to dance – the Grindylows had quite a rocky feel to their music, and the voices were loud enough to fill the entire Hall. Many musicians used a charm to make their voices fill the venue, but Meredith suspected that their voices were just naturally loud.

Meredith was quite content to listen to the music, and she very rapidly concluded that she had missed out a very significant portion of education – musical appreciation. She'd never paid much attention to popular bands, being far too immersed in whatever book she was reading at the time, and now she realised just what she was missing.

Half an hour after the band started playing, Dave's son Bart swooped in through an open window and landed in a bowl of custard with an ungainly fall and a barrage of bad language; when he emerged he was dripping wet and covered in the thick yellow stuff. Dave was laughing his head off and nearly fell off her shoulder; grinning herself, she steadied Dave and used the Scourgify charm to clean the mess off the poor raven.

" To what do we owe this pleasure, young Bart?" she asked the bird.

" Private stuff," he replied cagily. " A word, Dad."

Dave and Bart sidled off down the table a little way, to Meredith's mystification. What could be so private that they couldn't tell her? She felt a little miffed until they sidled back to her. Dave looked both upset and angry – his feathers were ruffled all out of place, and his bow tie was crooked. She took it off him and tried to soothe his feathers.

" What's the matter?" she asked in a gentle voice.

" I gotta split," Dave told her, hopping agitatedly from foot to foot. " You know I told you I met one of the local ravens and started a family?"

Meredith nodded.

" Well, she's part of a much larger raven colony that live all over the Hogwarts and Hogsmeade grounds," he explained briefly. " Loosely, I'm their boss. There's a bit of trouble – young upstarts, bloody hotheads…nothing I can't handle, but I need to go and break a few wings."

Meredith bit her lip. " I wish I could say you were joking about breaking wings but…" she shook her head, worry coursing through her.

" See ya later, Meredith. Bart, get your arse in gear."

The girl sighed as her two raven companions flew away and she dangled Dave's bow tie loosely between her fingers. Lucas was sitting contentedly in her lap, munching on a small piece of bread; she picked him up and brought him close to her face.

" You won't leave me Lucas, will you?" she asked in a crooning voice. " Mummy needs some company right now."

" Then Mummy must have some company," a deep male voice came from across the table.

Meredith looked up, her face flushed with embarrassment – the music was still playing, but it was a lively dance tune with no vocals. Martin Grimwood had pulled up a chair directly opposite her, and was now straddling it, leaning his arms on the back as he faced her. Up close, she noticed deep lines etched in his face around his eyes and mouth…and that his eyes were a rich brown.

" Uh…" she replied and silently cursed herself for her intelligent reply. She coughed politely, put Lucas down and attempted to persuade her befuddled brain to make proper conversation.

Grimwood smiled at her. " He's a rather handsome fellow, isn't he?"

She'd noticed earlier on that he had a strong northern accent, and she was able to pinpoint it more exactly now – Yorkshire. She found it rather pleasant to listen to, almost melodic.

Meredith managed to pull herself together.

" Yes, he is very handsome," she replied with a smile. " The result of generations of breeding. I don't wish to brag, but he's super intelligent too. Lucas, say hello to the nice man."

Lucas was sitting on his haunches and he turned back to shoot his mistress a look which clearly told her he'd much rather be eating his piece of bread than meeting new people. But he trotted forwards anyway, his black button-eyes focussed on the seated man. He pressed his little nose against his hand before leaping nimbly up on to his arm; lightly he made his way up to Grimwood's shoulder. He thrust his nose in to his ear and Grimwood grinned.

" Those whiskers tickle!" he laughed gently, holding completely still with a delighted smile on his face.

Meredith was smiling herself, a mixture of surprise and pleasure.

" You're honoured," she told the man. " He's a fussy rat – he's very choosy about whose shoulder who sits on, and he's _especially_ picky about people's ears."

" You've got a very special little rat there," Grimwood told her. " Did you breed him?"

" Yes, I've kept and bred rats since I was five – my mother used to keep them, and I kept up the tradition when she died."

" I'm sorry," Grimwood told her. " She must be very proud of you."

Meredith smiled. " I certainly hope so. I know my father is, now."

" Now?" Grimwood asked curiously.

Meredith waved the question away. " Never mind that – it's a long story." She rapidly changed the topic of conversation. " I heard Dumbledore saying you and your band would be teaching students to play?"

Grimwood was keen – he noticed straight away that Meredith was cagey about her parents, and filed that away for future thought. But for now he was happy just to chat with this beautiful girl; she was one of the few students still sat at the tables. Everybody else was dancing, even some of the Professors, but she'd sat in the same place all evening. He'd made a point of keeping an eye on her.

" Yes, we'll be here for as long as your good Professor Dumbledore allows us to stay," he replied. " I've been playing gigs for about twenty five years now, with these guys and other musicians. Music is largely a forgotten subject in the wizarding world – eventually, I'd like to see it taught in schools."

" But I thought only magical subjects could be taught in wizarding schools," Meredith replied.

Grimwood gave her a knowing smile. " Ah, but music _is_ a magical subject, though a very long forgotten one. Music has power. Songs can control your emotion – they can make you feel happy, or sad. They can raise our spirits or they bring you down in to the deepest, darkest despair of your life."

Meredith was hooked on his words. For all her reading, all her research, she'd never heard about _this_ before. New magic!

" And that's all magic is, really, controlling emotions, controlling your inner power, to get things done. Your wand is a focus for that magic – but the wand is a traditional focus. There are other ways to focus your inner power, but they have been largely forgotten as the centuries rolled by and wizards and witches alike found wands to be easier and more convenient."

" So how do you focus your magic?" she asked a touch breathlessly.

" Depends what I'm doing," he replied with a grin. " For most every day stuff, I use a wand like everybody else. But when I get up on stage it's my voice, or my accordion. For Daire, it's his cello. Eric uses his guitar, and trust me, he's a bloody good guitarist. Liam uses the fiddle and Dor uses the drums. The instrument – or your voice – becomes the tool to focus your inner magic."

" Dor?" she asked faintly.

" Cuspidor. We all call him Dor – don't let the kilt frighten you."

Meredith blushed again, and Grimwood decided that it was a very pretty blush.

" I'd definitely like to try and learn to play an instrument, maybe even sing," she told him, a hint of uncertainty colouring her tones, " but it's not learning something from a book. Anyone can learn information. Music is a talent, one I'm not sure I have. I just started as a sixth year and I'll be taking my NEWT's next year…but knowledge isn't everything."

" When do you turn seventeen?"

" April," she replied.

"Well, there's only one way to find out if you have any skills," he teased her. " Is anybody in your family musical?"

She shrugged. " I don't think so – at least, nobody's ever told me they were."

" Come along after the evening meal on Monday," he told her. " We'll try you out on a few things and see how you go."

She gave him a shy smile. " I'd like that. I've not met a type of magic yet that I couldn't master…think how galling it would be if this was the first."

He gave her a wicked grin. " Talking of magical mastery, there is _something_ I don't think you've mastered."

She raised one elegant eyebrow high, giving him a cool look.

" Oh?"

His grin became even more wicked.

" Yes…the magic of dance," he replied. " Everybody else is out there on the floor taking a turn, even your Professor Dumbledore and that delightful lady in the emerald robes. But here you are, talking to your rat and those birds, without a man to whirl you around."

The blush returned and deepened. " I don't dance, Mr Grimwood," she told him.

" Nonsense," he replied, a roguish twinkle in her eyes. " All you need is a good teacher, and I'm nothing if not brilliant."

She couldn't help but return that grin with one of her own.

" Well, maybe…" she replied a little uncertainly.

" No maybes about it." Grimwood gently scooped up Lucas and placed him down on the table – he scampered off to find something sweet to munch on. With his shoulder free the man got to his feet and came around the other side of the table.

" Come with now," he told her, reaching out to take her hand.

She still looked at him a touch uncertainly. Should a new member of staff really be asking a student to dance? Even one who taught extra-curricular lessons?

Getting to her feet she suppressed another grin. She wondered briefly what _other_ sorts of extra curricular lessons he would like to teach. He was much older than her – he looked to be in his late thirties, perhaps a bit older – and she wasn't interested in older men. She'd made that clear to Derrick. But he _did _have a wicked smile, and his eyes _did _twinkle…and he wasn't that bad looking. For an older man.

When she'd convinced herself that she wasn't interested in him she took his hand and let him lead her out on to the dance floor. The skirts of her gown and tunic swirled lightly around her feet and she gave a delighted little laugh as Grimwood twirled her around.

Seeing their lead singer take to the floor, the rest of the band struck up a livelier tune. She struggled to keep up with him until he told her to relax; when she did so, he guided her expertly, his hands either around her waist or on her back.

" You haven't even told me your name yet," he panted out as they moved around the Hall.

" It's Meredith," she replied, her cheeks filled with colour as she gasped for breath.

" Meredith Corrigan."

" Pleased to meet you, Miss Corrigan," he grinned, bending her back.

" Please, call me Meredith."

" Then you must call me Martin," he insisted. " I'm not a formal teacher, and I'm certainly no Professor. But I _can_ navigate my way across Britain via the pubs."

Meredith laughed and then fell silent. She needed all her breath to dance.


	20. Chapter 20

**CHAPTER FIVE**

Meredith was up bright and early the next morning, a Sunday, but she was deeply amused to find that many of the sixth and seventh year students were a little worse for wear when they eventually descended for what could only be called brunch. People were blinking owlishly, clutching their heads and generally making as little noise as possible.

Ophelia and Mariana were no better, and Meredith breezily sat next between them as she took a quick break for coffee. She noticed _their_ coffees were both blacker than midnight, and grinned at them.

" A little too much Halloween cheer last night, was it?" she teased, smiling brightly.

Ophelia growled at her friend. " Someone spiked the punch," she muttered.

" Don't talk so loudly," Mariana whispered.

" When I find out who it was I'm going to give him haemorrhoids," Ophelia continued.

Meredith looked further up the table where Gus, Perry and Viktor were cackling amongst themselves.

" Oh, I don't think you need to look too far," Meredith told them.

Ophelia and Mariana followed the direction of her gaze.

" I'm going-" Ophelia began, getting carefully to her feet.

" –to kill them," Mariana finished.

Laughing, Meredith left them to it. She'd just finished writing a letter to her father, telling him about the new after-school music lessons and asking them if any of their family was musically talented, and she needed to post it straight away if she wanted a reply by the end of Monday. Posters fully detailing the lessons had been pinned to all the House notice boards, and were generating a certain amount of interest.

As she walked up to the Owlery her lighthearted attitude left her and a grim smile set on her face as she wondered how Dave and Bart were doing. Neither of them had returned that night and it was now coming up to lunchtime, and she still hadn't seen a single feather of them.

The cold air hit her skin at the same time as the sound of soft cooing filled her ears, and she stepped through the open doorway and in to the Owlery. There were hundreds of birds here; students were allowed to keep their own owl, but if they didn't have one they could use one of the school birds. Normally she would use Dave to send her messages…but he wasn't here.

She was about to lift down one of the smaller owls when a voice cawed out of the shadows.

" It's bloody freezing out there," Dave said.

Meredith whirled around. " Dave!" she said. " I was worried about you. Where'd you get to?"

" Around and about." He raised his wings in a corvid shrug. " Setting some feathers straight – you know how it is."

" No, I don't. Where's Bart?"

" With his mother. Got any food on you?"

She always kept a few scraps of bread in one of the many pockets on her skirt, and she fished out such a scrap now. She tossed it to him and he caught it deftly with his beak, swallowing it whole.

" No, I do not have eyeballs," she warned him with a light gleam in her eyes.

" You'd make me a very happy bird if you did," he teased.

She shook her head. " Are you up to a long distance flight? I need to send a letter to my father."

He stuck out his leg. " Sure, I'll go. I heard from the rats that you were sucking up to your new lover boy."

She gave him a puzzled look. " I don't know what you're talking about," she told him.

He gave her a sly look as she fastened the message. " You know exactly what I'm talking about, you silly wench," he cackled. " The oh-so-lovely Martin Grimwood, who you danced the night away with."

" He's not my – well – what you said!" she shot at him angrily. " Dave, how could you even think that? You've got the mind of a guttersnipe!"

He shrugged. " Eh, I'm a raven, so sue me. We have to get our kicks somewhere." He was silent for a moment as he preened some of his feathers. " Did you sleep with him last night?"

Meredith was almost stunned in to silence.

" I danced with him, so what! That doesn't mean I'm sleeping with him! And we chat really easily, so what! Does that mean I should go down on him in the corridors?" she asked furiously. " I hardly know the man, Dave. I don't even make out with complete strangers, let alone sleep with them!"

" Whoa, whoa, don't get those virginal knickers in a twist," Dave cackled again.

The owl nearest him didn't seem particularly appreciative of the noise Dave was making and pecked at him; with a stream of obscenities, the raven drove him away and on to another perch. The owl muttered darkly to his friends and pointedly turned his feathered back on Dave.

" So you didn't sleep with him," the bird continued. " Doesn't mean you don't fancy him. Lucas told me you were making sheep's eyes at him. Mmm, sheep's eyes…"

" Get a grip," she told him. " I wasn't making eyes at him, sheep's or otherwise."

" But you do fancy him."

Meredith was silent for a long moment as she fiddled with some of the random detritus in her pocket.

" Come on, you can tell your old Uncle Dave," the raven coaxed in as soft a caw as he could manage.

" Well…maybe just a little," Meredith replied eventually. She looked glum. " I don't want to. I'm sure he's a nice guy, but he's not my type. For a start he's far too old – he's got to be forty, and I'm not even seventeen yet. And he's a teacher!"

" An extra-curricular teacher," Dave reminded her. " That makes him much more accessible."

" If I were interested, which I'm not!" This conversation was beginning to exacerbate her. " In case you'd forgotten, I broke up with a long-term sort-of boyfriend at the beginning of this term! And my fiancé was murdered two weeks ago! I'm not in any mood to start a relationship now. Maybe not ever!"

She hadn't noticed, but tears were beginning to trickle down her face. She was only aware they were there when they began to drip on to her blouse. Angrily she started to wipe them away.

" Oh, good morning, Meredith," a familiar voice sounded from behind her. She whirled with a muted groan to see the cheerful figure of Martin Grimwood. When he saw the tears on her cheeks he moved straight towards her, concern on his face.

" What's the matter?" he asked gently, reaching out a hand to gently hold her chin.

She knew she ought to jerk out of his hold but part of her…part of her liked the touch.

" Nothing's the matter," she managed to squeak out. He let her go and she cleared her throat, drawing out a hankie to wipe her face properly. " I – I was just having an argument with my bird here, and…well…he got on my nerves."

" Sure, blame the raven, it's always my frigging fault," Dave muttered. " Go on, just go and shag the man and get it out of your system."

" _Dave_!" Meredith yelled, half turning to face the bird. Tears pricked her eyes again and she angrily dashed them away. " Look, just get out of here and deliver that letter, if you haven't got anything sensible to say!"

Dave shot her a dirty look before flapping laboriously out of one of the many open windows.

His last parting caw as he sped away was, " It wouldn't hurt you to spread your legs once in a while like the rest of the girls. You might even enjoy it…"

Her wand was in her hand before she realised what she was doing and it was pointing directly at the bird. She was shocked and appalled at herself – Dave was her friend, so how could she even think about hurting him?

Perhaps because she knew he was right?

Angrily she shoved her wand back in to her pocket and made to push past Martin, tears still on her face, but he grabbed her arm and held her back.

" Meredith, please, tell me what the problem is. Perhaps I can help."

She stared at him for a long moment, taking in every detail of his face. He wasn't conventionally handsome, but there was a certain air about him, something…indefinable about him that almost seemed to call out to something inside her. A certain knowingness.

" No," she said eventually. " No, I don't think you can help me." She gave him a lopsided smile. " I think I need to work through these problems by myself." She wiped her hankie across her eyes again, aware that she was probably beginning to look a right state and not caring too much.

Martin gave her a long, considering look.

" Who were you talking about?" he asked.

Meredith frowned. " How do you know there was any 'we' for Dave and I to be talking about? We could have been discussing the weather for all you know."

He folded his arms across his chest. " I speak Crawspeech too."

Her eyes widened with alarmed shock.

" How much did you hear?" she asked him in a panicked voice.

" Enough to know that your bird thinks you should – uh – have a relationship with somebody," he replied carefully. " But not who."

" He should keep his nosy beak out of other people's business," she said, savagely twisting her handkerchief.

" Do you want to talk about it?" Martin asked. " I'm a good listener."

She forced herself to calm down and gave him a rueful smile.

" Thanks for the offer, but this is really something I'd like to keep private. Now if you'll excuse me…I have homework to do."

Her homework was done by teatime, and she spent the rest of the day thinking about what Dave had told her. It was a weighty problem. All around her, sixth and seventh years were loosing their virginity (despite the fact that Hogwarts had a strict no-sex policy) and she seemed to be the only girl to keep hers. Conan had dumped her because she wouldn't sleep with him.

Her face twisted. No, she was doing the right thing – she wouldn't allow herself to be pressurised in to sleeping with somebody just because everybody else was. She never was and never would be a common sheep!

But Dave was right, in one thing at least – she did like Martin. For all that he was more than twenty years her senior, she found him attractive. He was funny, worldly, and a great conversationalist, _and_ he knew about a branch of magic that she'd never even heard of. Still, that didn't mean she needed to throw herself at him – for all she knew, he could be gay. She very much doubted it – after all, he'd danced with her last night and seemed to enjoy it – but she couldn't just assume anything.

The best thing to do would be to just wait and see. She was still a minor at sixteen, so sleeping with Martin was technically illegal. But would she give herself to him if he asked…?

This was a ridiculous conversation she was having with herself, she decided. The only relationships students ever had with teachers was a purely professional one, and that was how it would stay!


	21. Chapter 21

**CHAPTER SIX**

Dave returned first thing on Monday morning carrying a letter and a small, narrow package; he dropped them on the table in front of her as she ate her breakfast and flopped exhaustedly in to her lap. All her anger with the bird was forgotten as she saw just how tired he was; his eyes were half lidded and he was panting. She cradled him in her arm and offered him a drink of water – he drank deeply and thirstily, splashing her with a little liquid as he muttered swear words under his breath. She dropped a light kiss on the top of his head. " Thanks, Dave, you're an angel," she told him. His eyes fluttered shut and he was asleep in seconds.

Eagerly she opened the letter, and then smiled. It was from her father. He was brief – he wished her good luck if she planned on trying to take a music course, but cautioned her to try and keep sight of her real goal – studying for her NEWT's. He didn't want her to fall behind.

In previous years that kind of comment would have had her throwing the letter away in disgust, but it didn't bother her anymore – it wasn't meant in a mean or badgering way. Her father was genuinely concerned, and she was glad she finally had his attention. She would keep the gentle warning in mind.

He went on to answer the query that she'd sent him, as to whether she had any musical relatives. Much to her surprise he replied in the affirmative – a drunken bar singer on her father's side, a bagpipe player on her mother's…and even more of a surprise was Meredith's mother herself.

_Your mother didn't play much, but when she did she had the skills of an angel. She played an instrument called the Irish Whistle, alternatively called a penny whistle or a feadog by the Irish. She stopped playing completely when you were born and her whistle got lost somewhere in the attic of our Hampshire house…I spent all of Sunday afternoon looking for it. It should be in the box there, waiting for you. Good luck, my dear._

She put the letter down and picked up the box with fingers that trembled slightly with excitement. She tapped it lightly with her wand and the long, thin box opened; soft lumps of packaging fell out. She put her wand back in her pocket.

The whistle was a simple affair, bright and colourful. The green mouthpiece was crafted from a hard substance whilst the barrel was a shiny coppery colour – she tapped it with one finger. It was a metal of some kind. There were six holes of varying sizes starting nearly half way down the barrel. When she picked it up, it was light and felt easy in her hands. Tentatively she touched her fingers to the holes and blew gently in to the mouthpiece – it made a low sound. Not too bad, she thought.

" What have you got there?" Ophelia asked her.

" It's called an Irish whistle," Meredith replied. " Apparently my mother used to play it – I wrote to my father and asked him."

" Hoping to try out for the new music lessons?" Mariana asked.

Meredith nodded. " I don't suppose I have an ounce of musical talent, but it's worth a go. I talked to Martin Grimwood last night – did you know you can do magic with music, too?"

Mariana raised an eyebrow. " Now that I did _not_ know. How does it work?"

Meredith laughed. " I'm not explaining it now, it's quite complicated and I'm still only on my first cup of coffee. I expect you'll find out if you come along to the lessons tonight."

Individual classrooms on the first floor had been cleared to give enough space to those students who wished to participate. Surprisingly there weren't that many; for all their talk of how much they were looking forward to live music, not many people had turned up. Meredith estimated there to be about fifty students.

The Grindylows talked to them in the Great Hall first – no one classroom was large enough to accommodate that amount of people. There was no talk of music being another form of magic, and Meredith was surprised – why didn't Martin tell them about it?

" Hey, why aren't we being told about the magic side of it?" Ophelia whispered to her friend as Martin gave an introductory speech.

Meredith shrugged. " I'm not sure. He told me last night that it wasn't a common subject any more. And he's just here to teach music, that's all – it's not like he's teaching a regular class or anything. He's not licensed to teach magic."

" Makes sense, I guess," Ophelia whispered back. " Magic at Hogwarts is dangerous enough as it is – we really don't need to learn anything else new at this stage. NEWT's are hard enough."

" Right, there's only a certain amount of instruments we can teach here," Martin was telling the students now. " If there's anything you'd specifically like to learn that we don't have, just pipe up and we can probably accommodate you – between us, there's not an awful lot that the Grindylows can't play."

He went on to list the instruments that they could easily teach, which included voice, guitar, fiddle, drums, accordion (or a much smaller squeezebox) flute and whistle. They were even offering piano lessons.

Predictably most students went for guitar and drum lessons, and the men began to write down people's names. When the lists had been taken, Liam read them out – he had a deep Scottish voice, as dour as his face.

Meredith was keeping a mental tab of the numbers as they were read out. They were fifteen students for the guitar class; on Mondays Daire would take a class of seven and Eric would take another class of seven.

Cuspidor – Dor – took one half of his drumming class on Tuesdays and the other half on Wednesdays.

Wednesdays was also time for a small class of five girls to be taught the flute by the dour Scotsman Liam, and two accordionists for Martin. Thursdays Liam would take a couple of violinists and then the entire group would take whoever was left for vocal classes on Friday.

But nobody except Meredith wanted to learn how to play the whistle, and she was too shy to stick up her hand and ask.

" I thought you wanted them to teach you the whistle?" Mariana asked her friend as they were picking up their bags to leave. Both Mariana and Ophelia were scheduled to take singing lessons on Fridays.

Meredith sighed sadly. " I do. But nobody else does. I'm certainly not sticking out a limb to be the only one to want to learn."

" Don't be an arse," Ophelia told her brusquely. She stuck up her hand.

" Hey, Mr Grimwood?" she called out over the departing students heads. They bustled past her.

The man was rolling up the lists and tucking them in to the pocket of his ever-open robe.

" Martin, please, Ophelia," he insisted.

" Martin," Ophelia smiled. " Meredith here wants to learn the whistle."

" Ophelia!" Meredith hissed, punching her friend on the arm. The blonde girl ignored her.

Martin walked over, smiling down at the girls. " Well done, Meredith. I was beginning to think that nobody wanted to learn."

She offered him up a shy smile. " Apparently my mother used to play it, and my father sent me the whistle. But I don't want to be a nuisance if nobody else wants to learn."

Martin grinned at her. " As long as there is a single student in the school that wants to learn how to play, we will teach them," he told her. " And that, my dear, includes you." His eyes twinkled. " I can fit you in on Monday's, Tuesday's and Thursday's – your choice."

She made a face. " I'll probably be awful at it."

" As I said on Saturday night, you'll never know until you try. You can come all three nights, if you want to."

" Look, Meredith, we have to go," Mariana told her.

" Yeah, we've got homework to finish off," Ophelia added.

Meredith grinned. " I've already done mine."

Her friends left. By this point all the other students had filtered out too, leaving the rest of the band off to one side of the Hall.

" Will these lessons take long?" she asked uncertainly.

" As long as you want them to," he replied. " The whistle is a handy little instrument – it's no bigger than your wand, so you can carry it around with you wherever you go. And sheet music can be rolled up and put in one of those handy pockets in your skirt or your robe until you learn a piece. You can practice wherever you go."

Uncertainty still lingered on her face, so Martin decided to take the initiative.

" Come on, we'll start a few basic lessons tonight. I bet you'll pick it up really quickly."

His faith in her was empowering. " Ok then," she told him, a big grin on her face.

" I'll do it."

That night was a complete blast for the bookish girl. Apparently her whistle was in the key of D, and she learned they also came in C as well. Martin ran through the two octaves that could be played and instructed her on how to play the second, higher octave by tightening her lips around the mouthpiece and blowing harder. It took her a while to master the highest notes – she kept making unholy screeching noises that made her wince and the band members laugh. She was embarrassed until they assured her that everybody made mistakes when they were first learning. And Martin was genuinely encouraging.

When she was comfortable with the fingerings he gave her a small pamphlet with some basic practice tunes. They were a selection of common wizarding nursery rhymes so she had the advantage of knowing the tunes; he briefly explained time signatures to her. She practiced them for about half an hour, by which time her mouth was dry and Martin decided it was time for her to stop.

" You can come back tomorrow for another lesson, if you like," he told her.

" Lights out is at nine pm," she reminded him with a shy smile.

Martin grinned at her. " For students, maybe," he replied. " For drink-a-lots like us, there's still a lot of drunken carousing to be done."

Meredith laughed. " I hope you're joking. I don't think Dumbledore would look too fondly on drunken Professors."

Martin winked at her. " We're not Professors."

When she was gone Martin settled down at the table with the rest of his band; Liam filled up his tankard and topped up his own.

" You're volunteering to spend a lot of time with that girl," he rumbled in his thick Scottish brogue. " You'd best be careful."

" And what is that supposed to mean?"

" You can't pull the wool over our eyes," Eric told him as his fingers strummed lightly on the strings of his guitar – an automatic gesture whenever he was holding the instrument. " We've been around you long enough to know when you think you've found a special lady. And she is most definitely a special lady."

Martin gave a small, thoughtful smile as he leaned far back in his chair, putting his feet up on the table.

" She certainly is special. She's one of the brightest students in the school, and she's taking so many NEWT level classes I don't know how she keeps track of it all. She's smart, pretty and she makes funny conversation. And she breeds super-intelligent rats. And she knows Crawspeech! I've never found anybody else who knew it – it's rare, like being a Parselmouth. _And_ she wants to learn a musical instrument _and_ I think she's going to be good at it _and_ she wants to know more about magical music theory _and_ I think she's got the intelligence to understand it-"

" _And_ I think you need to slow down," Daire interrupted him. " Yes, she sounds like the perfect girl. Emphasis on _girl_, Martin. What is she, sixteen?"

" Seventeen in April." He sounded defensive even to himself, and he winced.

" And you're on the wrong side of forty," Daire continued.

" Only just, Daire, only just."

" And you barely know her," Liam added. " You were chatting her up on Saturday night, and you've talked to her a few times since then. You can't get a good sense of a person in such a short time."

Cuspidor had appeared to be ignoring the conversation up until then, tapping out a rhythm on the table top with his fingers. Now he looked at Martin and spoke.

" Keep her close to you," he said. Everybody paused to listen to him. He didn't speak much, but when he did, the band stopped to listen.

" Keep her close and get to know her. Learn her likes and dislikes…but when she leaves school, let her go. The guys are right – she _is_ too young for you, but in a few years she won't be."

Martin was nodding. " Wise advise, though I'll find it hard to let a girl like her go. I've known her barely three days, and already I think I want to spend the rest of my life with her."


	22. Chapter 22

**CHAPTER SEVEN**

The days marched swiftly onwards, as they always did, as November wound down towards December. Meredith's friends were complaining about their workloads, but Meredith herself relished it. She juggled her homework with the precision of a military exercise and always managed to find a little time to practice her whistle; by the end of November she had progressed on to more complicated folk tunes that worked well with her instrument, and Martin was teaching her how to perfect ornamentation – the process by which notes could be rolled together to give tunes more emphasis. It was a challenge for Meredith; she often managed to get her fingers in a knot, but she thrived on challenges and she certainly wasn't going to let the ornamentation defeat her. She persevered.

Hogwarts gossip began to move on to the impending Yule Ball. This would be the largest Ball of the year and everybody went, including Meredith.

The Great Hall was decked out like a gleaming ice-palace, and the enchanted ceiling had been magicked to show the Northern Lights; the beautiful colours spread across the white walls and floor in a strobing effect. There was a large amount of musical entertainment; besides the Grindylows playing, there were performances by Flitwick and the school choir and other students who had shown a particular dedication to their instruments. There was a guitar quartet, two singers and a pair of fiddlers; whilst their performances might have lacked the slickness that several decades of constant practice could produce, their was no lacking in enthusiasm.

Because other people wanted to play and sing, the adult musicians had time to relax and circulate amongst the students and professors. Liam had taken McGonagall's hand and persuaded the elderly teacher to take a turn on the floor; both Eric and Cuspidor were already married and so spent some time in deep conversation with Hagrid and Dumbledore respectively, and Daire was busily stuffing his face.

Martin and Meredith had grown steadily closer to one another over the past month, spending a lot of time with each other as he taught her how to play her instrument. They knew each other well by this point; they found it easy to talk to each other and surprisingly, Meredith let down her natural guard and told him her full history. He was a sympathetic listener and when she started crying, as she had fully expected herself to, he was there to put a comforting arm around her. She'd looked up in to his face; they were quite close to one another, and a long look had passed between them before he'd reluctantly let her go. Meredith had felt safe in his arms, protected – a feeling she wasn't used to but definitely liked.

In his turn, Martin had told her about his past, far less traumatising than hers. He'd had a normal school life and a stable family. He'd started up a band in school; when he left, he was sure he'd wanted to be a musician, and had started playing gigs in pubs and taverns up and down the country and over several parts of Europe. He'd done extensive research in to the nature of magical music and experimented with it himself. The name of his band had changed, as had some of its members, but it survived to this day. He'd drunk a lot of alcohol, travelled extensively and had some seriously unpleasant hangovers.

And now, at the Yule Ball, he asked her to dance with him again. She accepted readily. His eyes were fixed on hers as he whisked her across the floor – she looked even more beautiful this evening than she had at the Halloween Ball. Her theme was white, and shades of white, to fit in with the general Yule look. Her hair was drawn in to an elegant knot low down at the back of her head, so that some of her curls trailed down her back. She looked good, and she knew it – and so did Martin.

When they were tired from dancing he drew her in to a secluded corner of the Hall, out of sight of the other revellers, and presented her with an unexpected gift – a Christmas present. Meredith unwrapped and opened the small box with a delighted gasp – Martin had bought her a tiny golden charm on a chain. It was a whistle crossed with a wand.

" Oh, Martin, it's beautiful!" she told him with a big smile on her face. She reached up to kiss him on the cheek. " Thank you!"

When she moved back his eyes were locked on hers. He was very close to her – she could feel the warmth of his body next to hers, could even feel his soft, warm breath fanning her face, tinged with the faint smell of alcohol.

Slowly he bent his head, giving her plenty of time to break away from him if she wanted to…but she didn't. His head lowered and his lips touched hers in a gentle, chaste kiss. He raised his head for a moment, eyes half lidded before kissing her again.

This time she opened her mouth to him, her tongue darting out to meet his as her arms wrapped around his neck. The charm and necklace was wound through her fingers, glittering against the deep black of his open robe. His hands closed over her waist, holding her closer to him as he deepened the kiss.

They kissed for long, drugged moments, lost in the feel of each other, before a sudden flurry of voices drawing nearer brought them to their senses. He let her go with extreme reluctance, dropping one last kiss on her forehead.

" Goodnight, sweet Meredith," he told her. " And Happy Christmas."

Meredith spent Christmas that year with her father for the first time in twelve years, and it was a marvellous occasion. They were all in good spirits; Cook was even invited, and Benedict openly acknowledged his gratitude to the older woman for virtually raising his daughter after Meredith's mother died. Aunt Felicity and her children – Morgana, Tobias and Gideon – were invited round for supper on Boxing Day, and the event was a success. There was a certain amount of animosity between Meredith and her oldest cousin; although they were so similar, they didn't like each other and hadn't ever since Morgana had learned Meredith had Crawspeech and she didn't. She was an intelligent girl but wasn't quite in Meredith's league, another point of contention between them. They rarely spoke to each other over the Christmas holiday.

The new school term started early in January, and shortly after that, signs appeared all over Hogwarts telling students about the six-week course of Apparition lessons that were due to start in February. Meredith was one of the first people to sign up for the course – it was one more branch of magic that she hadn't been able to study yet, and it intrigued her.

The lessons were scheduled for Saturdays, and Meredith applied herself as well as she did for all her lessons. She found them difficult and slightly frustrating – but then, so did all the other students who'd put their names down. But when she came to take the final test she passed with flying colours, and immediately wrote to her father to say so.

A relationship with Martin – if that was what she was having – progressed painfully slowly. He'd kissed her only once more since the Yule Ball; when she'd told him she had finally passed her Apparition test, he'd caught her up in a fierce hug and kissed her so soundly her head had begun to spin. Meredith had been a little embarrassed – Martin was sitting in the large office he shared with his band mates, and the other men were all there. But his kiss continued, and all she could do was kiss him back – she soon forgot they were there.

When he finally released her she was flushed and bright eyed and happier than she'd been for years.

" I think I might be falling in love with you," she whispered in his ear.

His hand around her waist tightened. " The feeling's mutual, my darling girl," he whispered back, nibbling on her ear.

Liam made a disgusted rumbling noise in his throat.

" Why don't you two get a room," he said disapprovingly, his Scottish accent very strong.

" It's not going that far," Martin said in a warning tone of voice.

" It's not?" Meredith asked, confusion and something else – a fear of betrayal, of loss, perhaps – written on her face.

" Meredith, this is neither the time nor the place to talk about it," Martin insisted.

" Don't you have homework or something to be getting on with?"

The look she gave him was confused and hurt, and he hated himself for putting that look there. But he _was _right – this wasn't the right time to talk to her about how he felt, his plans for the future, when the rest of his band were sitting across the room from them.

She turned and left him without a word.

Professor Slughorn, their Potions teacher, invited Meredith to several parties. She went to a few but she found them deeply boring – Slughorn was the sort of man who liked to ride on the backs of other people's success, and as one of the most academically successful students in the whole school he was keen to have her at his parties. After two or three, however, she found excuses to be absent and refused to go to any more.

Her birthday was only a week after the Apparition exams, and was an eagerly awaited event for her – hitting seventeen was the time when all wizards legally came of age. They could drink, have sex, Apparate and perform other magic outside of school that had formally been denied them.

It was a special day for Meredith. Her best friends gave her thoughtful gifts; a complete series of books from Ophelia, and Mariana gave her a book of music scores specifically selected for her whistle. She was pretty good with it after nearly six months of frequent practice, and she spent an idle half hour flicking through the book and was delighted with it.

She'd tried to avoid Martin over the week between the Apparition tests and her birthday. She hadn't been to any of her lessons and stayed away from the places she knew he would be. Martin knew he was being avoided – she'd never missed his lessons before, and he knew it could only be because of his comments earlier on during the week.

But Meredith couldn't hide herself away forever, and Martin cornered her in the Library early on Saturday morning, a time she was guaranteed to have the place to herself – most sane students were spending their weekend mornings in bed.

Dave was talking to her as he approached, and he hung back in the shadows to hear what they were saying.

" So how're things going between you and your lover boy?" Dave was asking.

Meredith sighed. " That's just it – it's not going. I told him the other day that I thought I was in love with him. The rest of his band made some sort of joke – told us to get a room – and he said it wasn't going that far," she finished glumly.

Dave was being unusually tactful. " So you've finally decided you want him to bed you, and he won't," he said.

" Well, he never came out and said as much, but he implied it." She flicked through the pages of a book, barely even looking at it.

" You should get out there and show the miserable bastard what he's missing," Dave concluded. " Put out a little. Find another guy. You're old enough to legally screw now."

Martin's hands bunched in to jealous fists at the mere thought of Meredith with anyone else.

Meredith's lips thinned. " That doesn't mean I should start sleeping around," she told the bird. " There's only one man I care about. I think I'm ready to…well, you know…and then I find that he doesn't want to. What do I think, Dave? How am I supposed to feel?" She almost seemed to be pleading with the bird.

He raised his wings in a corvid shrug. " You're asking the wrong raven here, Meredith. If it was up to me I'd slip a love potion in his beer, put the Imperius Curse on him and keep him tied up in my cellar. If I had one, which I don't…"

" I get the general picture," she replied testily.

Martin's heart went out to the girl, and he stepped forward from the shadows.

" Meredith," he breathed huskily.

She jumped, startled. " Martin! How long have you been standing there?"

" Long enough," he replied. Then, in Crawspeech, " Dave, give us a minute."

Dave cawed harshly at the man, " Just sleep with her and get it over with."

" _Dave!_" they both whisper-shouted. The raven shrugged again and flapped away. Martin slid in to the vacant seat across from Meredith.

She looked at him, licking her lips in a nervous gesture. " So you heard everything we said."

He nodded, unsure how to proceed.

" So you know I – that I want to-"

He held up one hand. " Yes, I know." He took both her hands in his, but she pulled them away with a sharp gesture. His lips tightened.

" Meredith, you're the best thing that's ever happened to me," he began. " And I know it sounds trite, but it's true. Two of my band members are already married with children, and the only reason Liam isn't is because he thinks he's too old."

" And why aren't you married?" Her voice was level but it was clear she was struggling to keep it that way.

" I've never found the right woman," he replied. " My mother used to keep pushing all these women at me, but they were never my type. I don't get on with my mother at all now. She's always wanted grandchildren, and all I ever wanted was music…until you came along."

Meredith swallowed hard. " You kissed me, Martin. And you keep kissing me. If I'm the best thing to have ever happened to you, why won't you… why won't you make love to me?" Her face blushed, tinting with the colour that Martin loved so much on her. But this time it was decidedly unwelcome – he didn't want her to be ashamed to talk about anything with him.

He ran one hand distractedly over his mouth.

" There're lots of reasons, Meredith. But first and foremost is the fact that I'm too old for you."

" Ridiculous," she shot back.

" No, listen to me. I _am_ too old for you. I've over forty and you're not yet twenty – people like me that see people like you get called dirty old men."

" I don't care if you're a dirty old man. I love you."

" Please, think about this! You're _seventeen_. Girls your age should be having relationships with boys, not old men like me. You should be out there getting drunk, going to wild parties, finding out what you like and what turns you on. Live your life and have fun – an old man like me will just slow you down. You should focus on your education, your NEWT's, your career. You don't need me."

Meredith was silent for a long moment.

" Do you love me?" she asked eventually.

" You're my heart," he replied straight away.

She took a deep breath. " Maybe you're right," she said, her voice a touch tremulous. " But only a little," she admonished, pointing a finger at him. " My NEWT's are only a year away, and then there's the research centre to set up…maybe I don't need any extra complications…" She shook her head. " But I still love you. And I won't forget that."

She spoke one final time.

" You may let me go. But I'll always come back to you, Martin."


	23. Chapter 23

**CHAPTER EIGHT**

Neither Meredith nor Martin were happy with the decision that they'd come to – to put their relationship on hold for what could possibly be years – but they both realised it made sense.

April gave way to May. There were more and more reports of muggles and wizards going missing and being killed; students were muttering worriedly to themselves and even the teachers were ill at ease. There was an air of tension around Hogwarts Castle.

Things came to a head in the final days of May. When Meredith awoke it was to a school in utter confusion; the professors were rapidly gathering students in to the Great Hall. They looked frantic.

" What's the matter with everybody?" Meredith muttered to her friends when she caught up with them. Mariana was openly crying whilst Ophelia was trying to comfort her. Meredith clapped a hand on the smaller girl's shoulder.

" Professor Dumbledore is dead!" Mariana cried.

" _What?_" Meredith exclaimed.

" It's true," Ophelia said grimly. " Apparently that foul, loathsome son of slime Malfoy used some sort of magic to let Death Eaters in to Hogwarts. And – and – and Snape killed Dumbledore…"

" _Snape?_ I don't believe it…!"

" It's true," Mariana told her. " They were up on one of the towers…I think the Death Eaters were there to back Malfoy up, and Snape went back to his Death Eater roots when he killed Dumbledore…"

It wasn't yet the end of term, but as soon as Dumbledore's funeral was over with, the school would be closed. Meredith didn't know if it would be a permanent thing or not but she had a horrible feeling that it would be – Dumbledore _was_ Hogwarts, and it could never be the same without him there.

Meredith had thought her day could get no worse, but Dave swooped down on her as she returned to the Slytherin Common Room after the funeral to pack her things – perhaps for the final time. He drooped a letter in her outstretched hand.

" I'm sorry, Meredith," he cawed softly as he took his customary place on her shoulder.

She had thought he was talking about Dumbledore's murder until she opened the letter and read the brief contents – it was from Cook.

Apparently the Death Eater couple – the Hazzards – had come back to her father's Hampshire residence just this morning. They had argued with Benedict, trying to convince him to try and talk her over to the dark side, but he had continued to refuse. They'd argued, fought – and the Hazzards had killed her father…

She was halfway across the Entrance Hall when she read that part of the letter. She swayed, suddenly feeling sick and faint, barely even hearing Dave's barrage of foul language as he tried to stop her fainting. Her eyes were locked on the words that were destroying her world, and as she hit the floor the letter was clenched in her hand.

When she came to, she had been carefully arranged on a soft leather couch in the Slytherin Common Room. She'd been having a horrible dream that her father had been murdered…

" Meredith!" An urgent voice sounded in front of her. She struggled to focus – Ophelia's worried face was peering at her.

" Ugh, what happened?" she asked.

" You fainted. Meredith, I'm so sorry about your father…"

Meredith swallowed hard, tears instantly springing to her eyes. " I thought that was just a nightmare," she whispered. " But it's really real, it really happened…" Her voice cracked as she broke in to a sob. Dumbledore's death had been a disaster for the school, but Benedict's was a personal disaster for her. Especially when they'd been reconciled for such a short while!

Her final farewell to Martin left her in no better mood, either. He was more supportive than she could ever have wished for; she wanted him to come with her when she returned home, but she knew that he couldn't and wouldn't come. She didn't ask him – she wanted to spare him that pain, at least. Instead he kissed her tenderly at the Hogsmeade station and wiped away her tears. He promised her that they'd meet again.

It was a sad reunion for Meredith when she finally returned home; Cook looked tired and worn. The large mansion felt more empty than ever for Meredith now, and she spent long hours in the shed with her rats in an effort to dispel the loneliness. Her school was closed down and her father was dead. Martin was gone – with Hogwarts closed down, none of the teachers had a job, and that included the extra-curricular teachers; it could be hard for them to find new work. For Martin and the other members of the Grindylows, however, that wouldn't be a problem – they were musicians first and foremost, and had spent most of their lives earning a living with those skills.

But Meredith couldn't hide from the rest of the world, however hard she might try. She had a meeting with Aurors the very afternoon she came back, telling her that the Hazzards had been caught and would be sent straight back to Azkaban without trial, there to await the Dementor's Kiss. The thought should have comforted her, but it didn't; yes, her father's murderers were finally facing justice, but that wouldn't bring him back from the dead. Nothing could do that. When they were gone, she spent an hour locked in her shed playing mournful tunes on her whistle. After that, she cried.

Cook was a tower of support during those long, lonely June days. She urged Meredith not to linger on sad thoughts of the past, but to take the good memories she had of her father and to move forward with them. If Hogwarts was to be permanently closed then she and her fellow sixth and seventh year students couldn't complete their NEWT's – she should look to her future career and start drawing up more concrete plans to get her research centre underway. Grimly, she sat down in what had been her father's study and began to write up those plans, drafting a presentation for the Ministry of Magic. She had hoped to be able to impress them with impeccable NEWT grades, but she would have to settle for her OWL's instead.

She worked on the presentation for a week, and she was just about to try and contact a Ministry official when the news came out, passing from witch to wizard like a disease, splayed across the front page of every single major and minor wizarding newspaper – Voldemort was dead – again!

Meredith put aside all her work to read the headline. The details weren't clear, but the outcome was – the Potter boy had been involved in a titanic battle with the Dark Lord. Amazingly, he had won, and had dragged Voldemort's very dead body to the Ministry as proof. There was even a photo. The reports were sketchy at best, but there was talk of Horcruxes, rogue Death Eaters and daring acts of magic. Meredith could scarcely believe it!

But everybody else did, and the ease with which Aurors caught all the remaining Death Eaters paid testament to this – although Snape and Draco remained at large. The wizarding world heaved a collective sigh of utter relief as the reality of living a life free from constant fear finally hit them.

Better news was to come. The Ministry had seen fit to appoint a new Headmaster for Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Octavius Bennet was a respected wizard amongst the community with decades of teaching experience at other schools. He had Dumbledore's quiet authority, sense of humour and interesting taste in clothes, but he could never truly replace Dumbledore.

The majority of first to fifth year students came back, but the population for sixth and seventh years was sparse – NEWT's weren't enforced qualifications, and some young witches and wizards just felt too uncomfortable being at Hogwarts now. But Meredith went back with an open cry of relief, Cook waving her away for the final time as a new term opened at the school.

She was disappointed to find that the Grindylows had not been rehired, but she wasn't too surprised. The tri-yearly Ball tradition was still kept alive but her heart just wasn't in them anymore.

Meredith worked harder that final year than she ever had. Neither Potter nor his close friends – the two remaining Weasley's, Grainger, Longbottom and Lovegood – returned to Hogwarts to finish their NEWT's – the Ministry had offered them all jobs as Aurors after the shock of defeating Voldemort had finally worn off, and they had been more than happy to accept them.

With Hermione Granger gone, Meredith was now the undisputed top pupil for the entire school, but she didn't let it go to her head. She made studying her number one priority; her homework was done way before time and she took care to read ahead in every subject. But she made sure she had a little free time; the Professors were full of dire warnings as to what could happen to students who didn't take a break every now and then. During there rest periods she forced herself to go outside and get some fresh air; she would read a fiction book, or sit by the lake playing her whistle.

The final NEWT exams came, and Meredith went in to them with a more cheerful heart than she expected to have. She was still mourning over her father, who had been dead for over a year now, but she was more than looking forward to finally leaving school and setting her plans for a future in motion. When that day came she would be truly proud of herself.

But more immediate pride came a few weeks later when her NEWT results were delivered by owl; she gained an Outstanding grade in every single one of the exams she'd taken, and most of her examiners had added little notes to the effect that she should gain extra credit. She was absolutely over the moon…and she wished her father could have been there to see her.

She sent letters detailing her success to her Aunt Felicity and to her friends Ophelia and Mariana, and also to Martin Grimwood. She half hoped he would come and see her; at eighteen, _she_ considered herself fully grown up, but she realised how Martin still might not think she was. She'd only just finished school. Maybe they'd both know when the right time would be.

She hoped that time would be soon.


	24. Chapter 24

**BOOK FIVE**

**CHAPTER ONE**

_Forfeit the game before somebody else takes you out of the frame _

_And puts your name to shame_

_Cover up your face, you can't run the race _

_The pace is too fast _

_You just won't last_

_Points of Authority – by Linkin Park_

_Six years later_

_She really likes six-year intervals, doesn't she?_

Meredith Corrigan forced herself to get out of bed. She was still bone tired from last night's late research session and she still had a long way to go before her work on a fire-proofing potion for dragon tamers was perfected. But she found the work stimulating and now, she could never give it up.

After a quick, hot shower she got dressed in her habitual summer wear – the same olive green skirt she favoured with many pockets, but this time it was split up both sides to mid-thigh. Underneath were light, comfortably knee-high boots made from a fabric that allowed the legs to breath in hot weather, a fabric that her Research Centre had discovered and her company had patented and produced. Her shirt was sleeveless and white. After ten minutes of wrestling with her hair she wondered if it might be a good time to finally get it cut; she'd had it trimmed at semi-regular intervals over the last six years (mostly when her friend Ophelia wrote to her and reminded her) and the rebellious curls fell down to the middle of her back now. After brushing it she left it well alone. Somewhere on the Centre's long list of research topics was a shampoo that would actually tame hair like hers!

The Corrigan Centre for Magical Research was more successful than she could ever have imagined. The Ministry had rapidly approved her proposals for the Centre and a contract had been drawn up; magical discoveries that could bring her company (called simply The Corrigan Company) financial gain would have a twenty per cent cut of the profits taken by the Ministry. What she had left was more than enough to pay her staff, search out raw materials and cover her overheads. Magical discoveries that had a more educational purpose were submitted to the Ministry for looking over and potentially approving them to teach in schools at a later date. Most of her Centre's discoveries had so far been of the profit-making kind, but she and had staff had very keen minds and were always searching for something new.

She took a quick tour of the Centre as she did every morning before breakfast. It was based at the Hampshire estate her father had left for her in his will; her manufacturing company was further up north but if was the work of a moment to Apparate there.

The estate was made up of several buildings. The mansion itself had four floors, not including the attic and cellar. The East Wing belonged to Meredith herself; her personal quarters and office took up the fourth floor. She had quarters for Cook on the third floor – the woman was getting older and although she was far from frail, she was the closest thing Meredith had to a proper family. Aunt Felicity rarely visited – although she'd seen the twins Gideon and Tobias regularly when they'd come home for the holidays, and she still saw them from time to time now that they'd left school themselves – but she hadn't seen her cousin Morgana since she'd left school herself. Morgana's absence didn't particularly bother her.

The first and second floors of the East Wing were Meredith's personal laboratories, where she could research whatever took her fancy that day – she didn't like to restrict herself to one subject so she grazed, and she had already made a few significant advances.

She had a large research staff, and not just for the research itself – roots and leaves didn't just chop themselves, and insects certainly didn't pull their own legs and innards out by themselves. Somebody had to do the dirty work. She could buy the raw ingredients already chopped or powdered but they would be a lot more expensive. She'd employed several people from her own school year and was more than happy to take on school leavers; there was always something for them to do. If they weren't interested in the research side of things or crushing cockroaches, the estate housed a lot of magical animals. She had her own raven colony made up from local birds and a few that had chosen to leave Hogwarts with Dave and his own family; Crawspeech allowed her to speak to all birds in the corvid family, so there were also flocks of crows, jackdaws, rooks and magpies nesting on the estate. She'd made a point of making herself known to them all.

She still maintained her rat-breeding program on the fourth floor of her Wing, and she kept a couple of pet kneazles – though she had to keep them strictly separated from her rats. In the grounds outside she was carefully building up a herd of Thestrals and it was rumoured that she had unicorns living in the forested areas of the estate – though she'd dearly love to see them again, she didn't give much credence to the rumour. She had a Glumbumble hive in the back garden (although parts of the Glumbumble made good potions ingredients, she was still trying to get rid of the hive after nearly six months – she'd accidentally got a little of their fluid on her hand when collecting them, and it had made her feel depressed for a week).

She'd had a lake built half a mile away from the mansion and populated it with Hippocamps. They'd bred and produced the delightful little Tadfoals and so their population had steadily increased over the last two years. There were plenty of animals, and that was just how Meredith liked it.

The West Wing had a different department on each floor, and was run by some of her old school companions (she had to keep three of the four on different floors or they made so much noise nobody got any work done). Augustus Cane ran the Transfigurations Department on the fourth floor; Viktor Beckman ran the Charms Department on the third floor and Perry Conrad ran a Herbology Department in the extensive gardens outside. She'd also given him permission to set up his own highly lucrative business selling brewing and selling alcohol, now that he had enough land to grow some decent hops. Her one condition now – as it had been in school – was that he cut her in on the profits. Forty per cent had seemed harsh to Perry at first…until his profits started to roll in.

Defence Against the Dark Arts was covered on the second floor of the West Wing, whilst a cabal of old scholars had chosen to study Ancient Runes on the first floor. There were smaller buildings behind the main building and they housed many other areas of study.

The tour of her Centre took a good half hour and by the time she was done she was starving and more than ready for her breakfast. She'd planned to have toast but her growling stomach insisted on bacon, sausages, fried eggs, baked beans, grilled tomatoes and fried onions. Whilst it was cooking she brewed up a fresh pot of coffee and was leaning against one of the counters in her kitchen when she heard a rapping noise on the back door. Who would be calling on her this early in the day? Even the keenest of her researchers didn't even get here until eight am, and it was barely six thirty now. Even though her emotional issues were – by and large – resolved, she still slept very lightly.

Coffee cup in one hand she crossed the kitchen and waved at the locks on the door – wandless magic was a real gem. They clicked open and the door swung open.

It was still dark outside and she only had dim lights on in the kitchen so she couldn't quite see who was standing there.

" Who's that?" she asked cautiously.

" Someone who's missed you like crazy, my darling girl," came an achingly familiar Yorkshire voice.

" _Martin_?" she asked incredulously, taking a tentative step forward.

He stepped forward and in to the light. " Who else?" he asked with a big grin on his face, closing the kitchen door behind him.

Meredith leaned back against the kitchen table, her eyes hungrily searching his face – he'd changed so little in the six years since she'd seen him! The blonde hair, the brown eyes, the same familiar lines on his face. Even his clothes were the same; black t-shirt and trousers and open black robes.

" How've you been keeping?" she asked tentatively, sipping at her coffee. She waved for him to take a seat – he ignored her and leaned insouciantly against one of the other kitchen counters.

" Life's been really busy," he told her, folding his arms across his chest. " Did you get the letters I wrote you?"

She smiled. " Yes, I got them, though your letter writing skills suck. No details at all."

" I write better songs," he grinned. " The Grindylows have been working pretty solidly for the last couple of years," he told her. " We brought out some new songs when you were still in school, and then the year after that my mother died."

" You never told me that," she said, a touch accusingly.

He shrugged. " I'm sorry, Meredith. I was pretty busy then. I didn't want to worry you – I know your father died not long before. You didn't need to know about my troubles."

" But I want to know everything about you," she told him. She longed to touch him.

He gave her a lopsided grin. " The feeling is more than mutual. I've been touring with the band for the last couple of years – Great Britain, Europe, the Far East. We spent six months in Russia searching for the elusive Wizard's Star Vodka, and then spent the next four months trying to shake off the hangover. We've been on bar crawls around North America, South America and both the Poles. We've gigged the whole world over. But now we've decided to come home for a rest, and to see our families. Only trouble is…I can't call the place I live home if you're not there, and I don't have a family. Yet."

Meredith smiled softly. " I missed you, Martin," she told him.

Martin came closer to her. " And I missed you. If you put that coffee down, I'll show you just how much."

She gave him a coy look, fluttering her eyelashes. " But this is still my first coffee of the day…I'm only half awake…"

He closed the distance between them, taking the cup out of her hands with decisive fingers and putting it down on the counter beside her. One hand landed possessively on her hip and the other came up to rest on the back of her neck, pulling her forwards.

" I'll wake you up better than any coffee, you little witch," he growled teasingly before he kissed her.

The kiss completely took Meredith's breath away as she braced herself against the counter. His tongue made a sensual exploration of her mouth as she kissed him back with all the repressed passion of six years. When he finally ended the kiss a century later, they were both glassy eyed and short of breath.

" I let you go before, Meredith, but I swear I'll never let you go again," he told her hoarsely as he kissed her once more.


	25. Chapter 25

**CHAPTER TWO**

Meredith would have liked nothing better than to take Martin straight to bed, but she knew how unprofessional that would be – it was a workday and she'd more than likely be spending hours in his company. There was a time and place for everything, and unfortunately, this wasn't it.

So she asked him what his plans would be for the next few days. He had none – save spending as much time as possible with her – so she decided there and then to show him to his room. He raised an eyebrow at being told he would have his own room, but she gave him a quirky smile in return.

" What, you think I'm going to go to bed with you straight away?" she asked teasingly.

" It would be nice," he admitted with a grin.

" I haven't seen you for six years," she chided him gently. " As much as I would like to…well, you know…we need to get you settled in first."

He caught her close to him again in a swift movement that would always have the power to delight her.

" I'm a patient man, but my patience won't last forever," he growled teasingly. " Has there…has there been anyone else?" The teasing expression vanished from his face to be replaced by one that could only be called uncertain. Meredith could see he was genuinely scared that she might have found another partner, and was touched by it. She almost decided to make a big joke of it – to tell him that her husband was upstairs and that she had three children to take care of – but the very honest fear on his face dissuaded her from that plan of action. She was honest.

" No," she replied seriously. " I'm still – well – a virgin." The blush that he liked so much coloured her cheeks, and he kissed it.

" Not that there haven't been some very serious offers," she continued, not wanting him to think he could get her so easily. " Derrick – he used to be our Head Gardener in my father's day, but now he works under Perry in the gardens – he's been trying to bed me since I was about fifteen, and he very nearly managed it, too."

" Don't tease me," he groaned, burying his face in to the soft, warm hollow between her neck and shoulder. " I'm a jealous guy. My fragile ego can't take it." He looked up at her with a puppy-dog expression, but there was a laughing twinkle in his eyes. She giggled and shooed him away.

After he knew where his room was to be, she offered him a hearty breakfast and used the time to more thoroughly catch up on what he'd been doing over the last six years. The list was immense and it was clear he'd need to finish the tale over lunch and possible supper as well; he had a wild story for every country he'd visited – although normally it involved tales of drunken excess.

" I think you'll get on very, very well with Perry Conrad," she told him as she was cleaning the dishes away. " He runs the Herbology Department – there's nothing that that man couldn't grow. He used to run a liquor company back in school-"

" I know that," Martin replied with a grin on his face. " And if he's working here, life is going to be _very_ interesting."

" How do you know Perry?" she asked suspiciously.

" Let's just say he…provided the band and I with some liquid goods when we were teaching at Hogwarts," Martin grinned.

Meredith shook her head with disgust. " I should have known. Is there _any_ brand of alcohol you and your boys haven't tried?"

He shook his head. " Not that we're aware of – we can sniff out a hidden bottle of whiskey from fifty paces," he joked.

They discussed the Research Centre as Meredith gave the kitchen a quick clean. Martin was deeply impressed, and said so.

" I knew you were destined for great things, love, but you've done far better than I could ever have expected," he praised her. She smiled.

" Thank you! We patent and produce many of the discoveries we make – research alone doesn't pay for itself, you know – and I think we've done a good job. We've having a Departmental meeting this morning. You could sit in on it, if you like."

" I'd love to," he replied. " Do you still play your whistle? You were pretty good, even before I left."

She gave him a wide smile. " Yes, I still play – it's amazing how much it can cheer you up when you're down." She reached in to one of her many pockets and fished the instrument out – a different one, this time.

" May I?" Martin asked.

She handed him the whistle and he spent a minute looking it over. She'd collected many whistles over the years, cheap, expensive and somewhere in between, but this was her favourite. Made from a hard material that had been lacquered in black, the mouthpiece and barrel were one solid construction – the mouthpiece was wide and gradually narrowed the further down it got. It had a little wooden block inside the mouthpiece called a fipple, and the black lacquer was highlighted with gold paint around the finger holes. With a quick look at her for permission – Meredith nodded – he put the whistle to his mouth and blew a quick scale. His eyes lit up. The instrument made a soft, sweet sound across the two octaves. He played a merry tune and then handed it back to her.

" That's a lovely whistle," he told her. " You'll have to play for me sometime."

" And play the whistle as well?" she teased, a wicked gleam in her eyes.

He grabbed her and kissed her soundly. " Keep that up and I'll ravish you right here on the kitchen table," he growled. " Who taught you to make dirty jokes?"

She twisted free of his grip, laughing delightedly. " I guess it must come naturally."

He made a _harrumph _noise. " Or that flea bitten bag of feathers Dave corrupted your sweet, innocent little mind," he told her.

The smile faded from her face.

" I'm afraid Dave passed away a year or two back," she said softly.

" Oh, Meredith, I'm sorry," he replied, gathering her in to a warm hug. " I really am. I know he was a good friend to you."

She gave him a tremulous smile. Dave's death had hit her hard, though it hadn't been unexpected – he wasn't a young bird when she'd bought him from the Magical Menagerie in Diagon Alley, and by the time she was settled with the Research Centre he'd lived an exceptionally long life. He was a King amongst ravens; his son Bart had eventually taken his role, both as Meredith's companion and King of the raven flock. But he could never quite fill the role that Dave had made his own (his language was much better, for a start!)

She forced herself to stop being sentimental – it was nearly time for the monthly Departmental Meeting to begin, and she prided herself on being punctual. As they left the East Wing and walked to the large Conference Room on the first floor, she plied him with questions about the whole theory of music being used as a form of magic. It was something she herself had only briefly touched on in her research; none of the researchers she'd employed had even heard about it, so she was left very much in the dark. He answered her questions in detail, and she made delighted little noises with each successive answer.

She stopped him outside the large door to the Conference Room. " I'm assuming the rest of the Grindylows know a lot about magical music theory?"

He nodded. " They know as much as me. Liam probably knows more – the old codger's twenty years older than me, at least."

She gave him a shrewd look. " How would you and your boys fancy a more – permanent job than that of travelling musicians?"

He gave her a puzzled look, and she hurried to explain her offer.

" I'd like you to be part of a new Magical Music Department," she told him. " I'm the only one here interested in it, and I don't have the time to solely dedicate my research to that. But your band already knows so much, and you could make a genuine difference – and you'd still be able to go touring, if you wanted-"

Laughing, he held out a hand to stop her.

" Personally, I would be delighted to accept such a job offer," he told her. " But I'll need to talk it over with the lads. Give me a couple of days – I'll visit them in turn, see how they feel. What's the pay like?"

" More than enough to drink yourselves in to oblivion with," she grinned. " And for you…well, let's just say there'd be certain other _perks_."

" Ooh, I like the sound of that," he replied, dropping a swift kiss on her lips. " Leave it with me, and I'll see what the band thinks."

Meredith ushered him in to the Conference Room and made sure he was comfortably settled before she sat down herself. The Conference Room was large and airy, with white walls and floor; she'd worked with a few other wizards to enchant the ceiling to reflect the weather outside. Many witches and wizards who worked for her spent too much time in their own departments, without fresh air or even pausing to take a look at the view outside. The monthly Departmental Meetings gave the Department Heads, at least, the chance to remind themselves about what real weather looked like.

They filtered in to the Room singly or in pairs, sitting themselves down around the large rectangular table. She waited until they were all seated before she introduced them to Martin.

" Perry Conrad, Herbology. Viktor Beckman, Charms. Augustus Cane, Transfigurations. Desdemona Smith, Defence Against the Dark Arts. Sebastian De Montford, Ancient Runes. Serenity Davies, Divination. David Williams, Muggle Studies. Alice Church, Arithmancy. Grace Smitty, Legilimency. Will Walker, Occlumency. Connie Sawyer, Medicine. Gary Blum, Potions. Jock McGhee, Astronomy."

" That's a lot of departments," Martin murmured to Meredith as she finished the introductions. " How many staff do you have under you?"

" Lots," she replied with a secretive smile. " But there's only _one_ person I truly want under me."

Martin grinned – he never blushed, and Meredith decided that this was a personal challenge against her. He made her blush too much, and he himself had never blushed; this was something she would have to take care of at the earliest possible opportunity!

Martin listened as the Meeting got well and truly under way. Each Head had a sheaf of notes prepared and gave status reports regarding their Department's progress; there was a lot of technical talk that Martin only half understood but he made the effort to listen. Meredith was soaking it up, taking her own notes and asking pertinent questions.

When the technical discussions were over one of the witches, the tiny blonde Alice who ran the Arithmancy Department, handed out the post that owls had delivered before the meeting. There was the usual assortment of circulars and bills; the bills went to Meredith and the circulars went in to the bin. There were a variety of personal letters and smaller packages.

Martin was chatting amiably to the wizard next to him – the very elderly wizard Sebastian De Montford – when he noticed that the enchanted ceiling was dimming over. He looked up in surprise; this was a beautiful summer day in July and the sun was shining. The sky above was deep, gorgeous blue with no clouds in sight…until the thick pearly mist began to blow in. It blocked out the sun, cooling the air and bringing about a decidedly autumnal chill.

" Wow, that weather sure changed quickly," Martin remarked to Sebastian. The old man looked up and frowned.

" Is that even natural?" he asked in a thin voice, tugging on his long white beard.

The slowly dying sunlight was gradually breaking in to other people's conversations, and Meredith herself broke off her own chat with the Divination Head to look up. A frown creased her face.

" It's the middle of summer," she remarked. " We get fog – well, mist at least – very early in the morning, but it always burns off very quickly. It never comes back in the middle of the morning."

" Perhaps somebody's experiment went wrong," one of the Heads guessed.

" Maybe it's a warning of things to come," the Divination Head said.

" The planets could be aligning in a funny way," the Astrology Head added.

Meredith rolled her eyes. " This is what you get when there's so much brain power around," she whispered in an aside to Martin. She shivered. " Ooh, is it getting cold in here? Sebastian, are you cold?"

He raised one eyebrow at the young woman. " Meredith, I am _always_ cold."

She smiled slightly. " Colder than usual, learned one."

He pulled his bulky robes closer around him. " Now that mention it, my dear, I _am_ beginning to get somewhat colder."

" We'd better not be getting a cold snap," Perry told them. " It'll kill my summer plants. _Think of the alcohol!_" he joked, a _faux_ grimace on his face.

" I think we're all agreed this mist is unusual," Meredith concluded. " Are there any further issues in this monthly Meeting?" she asked. People shook their heads, keen to get back to the warmth of their own Departments, and the meeting broke up.


	26. Chapter 26

**CHAPTER THREE**

Meredith expected the mist to have cleared by the end of the day, but it was still firmly in place and seemed to be getting thicker. It was eerie - she could still hear birds singing their summer mating songs, but she could no longer see them perched on their trees. She had no idea what might be causing the odd weather, but it was always in the back of her mind, and she knew her research teams were thinking about it too.

The mist returned the next day from sunrise to sunset, and the day after that too. She learned that it was nationwide on the second day, when the Daily Prophet ran a report – there were many theories as to what was causing it, but nothing concrete, and people were beginning to mutter darkly. Maybe it _was_ a warning of something to come, they thought. Even the muggles were beginning to sit up and take notice, and they were notorious for ignoring the obvious.

A little of Meredith's happiness at Martin's return faded on the fourth day when he told her he'd be away for a week to visit the other members of his band. She didn't want him to go, but she understood the necessity of it; for something as important as the jobs she was offering, the only thing that would do was a face-to-face meeting. It would be a wrench – she'd grown so used to having him around to talk to, to laugh with, and to share in her research. He understood her in a way nobody else ever had…they connected on a deep level. She was beginning to realise that he might just be her other half. In a way it scared her – she'd never felt so close to someone before, never had that level of connection.

His goodbye to her was sweetly painful; they'd stood in each other's arms for long minutes, holding each other close. Meredith listened to the less than steady rhythm of his heart; her face nestled against his chest. He dropped a kiss in to her curly hair before raising her chin so that her eyes were forced to meet his.

" I'll miss you," she said hoarsely. " Hurry back to me…please."

" Darling girl, nothing could keep me from you for long. I'd wade through oceans to get to you." She gave a weak laugh, tears glistening her eyes, and he gently wiped them away.

She leaned up to kiss him, a move that surprised and delighted him because up until now he had initiated all the kisses. His arms tightened around her as he returned her fervent kiss.

" See you soon," he told her as he let her go.

The week passed with agonising slowness for Meredith. She tried to keep her mind on her research but she kept making silly little mistakes as her mind wandered – but one accident proved to be extremely fortuitous. Some years previously she'd spilled a potion on the floor of one of her laboratories, and nothing she'd tried had been able to shift it. Nothing had even managed to fade the virulent stain and she'd long since given up hope of being able to remove it – until, in a daydream over Martin, she'd spilled some of her left over coffee in to the potion she was currently mixing. It had made the potion turn a bright, luminous pink, caused a horrendous stench and poured smoke; in her shock and surprise she managed to knock the whole mixture on to the floor. She dived for cover, long experience with potion making teaching her the best times to duck, and when the smoke cleared she went to examine the damage. There were the usual broken vials, beakers and bottles that she expected, but what she _hadn't_ expected was to find the stain on her floor had been completely removed and the whole area now smelled faintly of lavender.

The discovery was enough to distract her from thoughts of Martin for the remainder of the week. She wanted to test the new potion, but first she had to try and remember exactly what potion she'd spilled on the floor in the first place, and she spent half a day looking through her old notes. With that found, she recreated the potion she'd been working on, added a certain amount of coffee, and tried again with the same results – bright pink liquid, vile smell, and smoke. This set off a flurry of further experiments, varying the stains she was trying to remove, the quantities of the active ingredients in the stain remover, and the type and quantity of coffee mixed in with it.

The experiments nearly distracted her from the changing weather – nearly. The mist persisted throughout the week, causing more and more mutterings throughout the muggle and wizarding world. By the middle of the week the mist had given way to chilled rain, and then to sleet, and by the end of the week it was snowing.

It was snowing across Great Britain.

In July.

This caused an immense stir amongst the muggles, with hysterical cries of global warming, increased pollution and even alien invasion doing the rounds. Witches and wizards were more pragmatic; they knew there was a magical cause to the bizarre weather, but they didn't know who or what was causing it, or where it was coming from. Many people tried spells to counter act it but nothing worked – the snowstorms absorbed whatever they threw at it, and continued to grow in ferocity. The Daily Prophet was filled with nothing but reports on the unusual weather, and crackpot theories grew like leaves on trees.

By the time Friday rolled around, snow covered Meredith's Hampshire estate like a blanket. On flat ground it was nearly two feet deep and it had piled much deeper in hollows and against walls; they put Defrosting Charms on all the paths leading between the research buildings and on the artificial lake that she'd had built some years ago. It had never been this cold in this part of the country, and Meredith couldn't risk the lake freezing over – there was a good chance that all her aquatic animals would die if that happened, so she kept the Defrosting Charm on the lake good and strong and renewed it every couple of hours.

The weather was especially hard on the more elderly of the researchers, particularly the wizards who studied Ancient Runes. Meredith encouraged all her staff to keep their fires well built up and to use whatever heating charms they felt were necessary; to save the old men from having to go outside to move from building to building, she had an internal floo network built and pushed through the licence with the Ministry. She suspected a lot of other organisations were having the same ideas – the witch she spoke with at the Ministry sounded harassed.

She had no idea how long the abnormal weather would last so she had to be practical about her planning. She wasn't the only researcher who lived on the estate; several of the Runes Researchers lived there too, and a few younger witches and wizards. There was plenty of food for summer months, but just to be on the safe side she sent out a quick order for more food to be brought so that she could stockpile it in case they became snowed in – which was looking more and more likely as the snow continued to fall. It was almost like a white sheet outside now. Summer had been almost completely forgotten when the sun vanished, and now there was nothing but a white-grey sky and biting cold.

Meredith had made significant progress with her coffee-based stain remover by Friday evening so she allowed herself to finish earlier than she normally would – it wasn't uncommon for her to push on until midnight or later if she was working on a project. But it was cold and dim, and the atmosphere throughout the mansion and surrounding buildings was growing increasingly gloomy.

She made one quick tour of the estate before she began to lock up. She'd sent her non-live in researchers home the day before – they wanted to be with their families during this foul weather, and she was more than willing to let them go. She knew they'd come back when the weather cleared. That morning she'd moved as many of the outdoor animals inside as she could, moving them in to bad-weather stables and aviaries so that they didn't have to suffer the cold any more than was necessary. She gave these buildings a quick once over, noting with a smile the mixed peeps and caws of the birds and the snorts of the bigger animals. She renewed the Defrosting Charm on the lake as she briefly Apparated beside it, and then took herself swiftly back to the mansion.

When she was inside she went straight to the kitchen. She hadn't been there since lunchtime and the room was cold; shivering in her long-sleeved blouse and thick skirt, she flicked her fingers towards the fireplace to heat the place up. She rummaged around in the pantry for some food and began to cook her supper, filling the large kitchen with lovely smells.

Her two pet kneazles – cat-like creatures who could sniff out bad wizards – padded silently in to the kitchen and hopped up on to the solid table. They each had a small furry body clutched in their mouths, and for one heart-stopping moment she thought they'd managed to get in to the rat rooms – but when she looked more closely she saw that they were just common mice, and nothing she'd bred.

" Oh, you brought me presents," she murmured drolly. " How sweet. Now, out – I'm not having dead mice in my kitchen," she finished sternly. They grinned around their mouthfuls and strolled casually out through the door and in to the Entrance Hall, looking for all the world as if they'd decided to leave instead of being ordered out. Smiling, she shook her head.

She returned to her cooking but looked up a few minutes later when she heard a scratching noise at the back door. She frowned and went to open it – that sounded like an animal noise, and she knew it would be just horrible if she'd missed one of her pets and they were still outside.

But when she opened her door, it wasn't one of her own pets she saw sat on her doorstep. It was an enormous dog – sat on its haunches, the top of its pointed head came up to her waist. It had mottled grey, black and white fur that was very short and shaggy and deep, black liquid eyes. Its mouth was hanging open and it panted – its breath steamed in the freezing air. It certainly wasn't a thoroughbred. There were hints of greyhound in the sleek shape, but the fur was probably from a collie.

" Oh, you poor thing," she cooed to the lurcher, opening the door wider and beckoning it to come in. She knew that several of the other researchers kept pets, both as companions and as a research subjects in their own right, and she supposed the enormous hound must belong to one of them. But she'd never seen it before.

She closed the door behind her and took a quick peek underneath the dog to find out what the gender was – it was very clearly male.

" Come on, boy, you must be starved," she said to the lurcher. He licked his lips as if he understood what she said and she grinned.

She fed him some of her own dinner – a nice hot chicken casserole – and gave him a bowl of water. He drank thirstily and then butted his head against her hand.

Meredith smiled and caressed his ear, scratching behind them; the dogs eyes half closed with pleasure and he made a noise deep in his throat.

" I bet you must still be cold," she told the animal as she ran her hand along his broad back. " I know I certainly am." She led the dog out of the kitchen, across the Hall and up three flights of stairs to her own quarters on the fourth floor – her living room was large and cosy, with a fire already burning in the fireplace. She sighed happily.

" I'll let you in on a secret, my little mutt," she told the lurcher. " The man I love is due back any day now. I've been going out of my skull thinking about him." Her head tilted to one side as she regarded the animal. " You know, I think he'd like you – he was born and bred a country lad up north. You're his type of dog."

She settled down in one of the comfy sofas, a glass of wine in one hand and a book in the other. The dog made himself comfortable on the soft rug in front of the fireplace.

After a few minutes he whined. Meredith looked up.

" Oh, please tell me you don't want to go out," she groaned. " It's freezing out there, you know."

His lips pulled back from his teeth in a snarl-like doggy grin, and she had to smile back. He made a contented noise and rolled on to his back, legs in the air and long tail thumping the floor.

" Oh, you're just having a silly," she remarked. Her smile broadened. Putting down her wine glass and book she walked over to the fireplace and gracefully sunk to her knees beside the dog – she didn't have any dog toys, but she could always rub his tummy. She knew dogs liked that.

" I bet you're a handful for whoever owns you," she murmured softly to the lurcher.

" Maybe I should get a dog myself? You know, I really hope you're a stray," she continued as she moved her hand gently over the dog's hairy chest. " Because then I'd have no choice but to adopt you all for myself, and spoil you rotten."

The dog threw his head back, clearly enjoying having his tummy rubbed like a puppy. His heavy tail pounded the rug…and that was when it happened. His body began to grow, to elongate, to change shape…and after a few seconds, where a dog had lain before there was now a man.

Meredith found herself kneeling with her hand on Martin's t-shirt-clad stomach. He lay with his arms behind his head, legs crooked at the knees and an enormous grin on his face.

" You never told me you were an Animagus," she told him with a soft accusatory poke. " And I was going to bath you later on!"

Martin caught her by the wrist, holding her hand against his body. The grin faded, to be replaced by a hungry expression.

" Would you have been naked in the bath with me?" he asked.

Her lips tilted upwards in a smile. " No, you filthy-brained mongrel, I would not have been."

But the time for words had passed now. Martin reached up to her, his arms going around her shoulders to pull her down to his level. He kissed her as he arranged her carefully beside him in front of the fire, holding her tightly against him; she could clearly feel how aroused he was – it was an excitement mirrored in her own body.

" Darling girl, you've no idea how badly I missed you," he told her hoarsely, kissing her lips, her chin, her neck.

" As much as I missed you, Martin," she groaned against him. Her hands tangled in his hair, sliding down the back of his neck and clutching his shoulders. She gulped.

" S-stay with me tonight," she begged him softly.

He was positioned a little above her now, and he looked down at her serious eyes. His breath was ragged, barely under control.

" Meredith, do you mean that?" he asked her. " I love you. Deeply. I'll never rush you."

Softly she kissed him. " Yes, I mean it," she replied. " You waited for me to grow up, Martin. You let me go…and then you came and found me again. Not many men would have done that."

He kissed her then, long and deeply, and when he raised his head his eyes were glassy with passion.

" Not here, though," he gasped. " No girl should give up her virginity on a rug…"

He was quickly on his feet and pulling her to hers. She kissed him warmly before taking him by the hand and leading him out of the room and along the corridor to her bedroom. That room was warm too – she'd set the fire going an hour or so before, so the room was perfectly toasty. She closed the door firmly behind her.

Decoration in Meredith's room was simple. The double bed was along the far wall, and there was a long window along the left hand side of the room that looked out on the front of the mansion. A walk-in wardrobe was on the right hand side, and there was a closed door to the right of the bed. Martin supposed this must be an en suite bathroom. The fireplace blazed merrily away beside the walk-in wardrobe, throwing a fluctuating light on the whole room.

She clicked her fingers and thick curtains flew shut across the windows. Martin's arms snaked around her waist from behind and he kissed the back of her neck; she shivered, leaning against him. He buried his face in her hair, his hands sliding slowly upwards before cupping her breasts.

" I think I fell in love with you when I met you at the Halloween Ball," he murmured in her ear. She made a small sound of contentment.

" That soon?"

" I've been around long enough to recognise my soul mate when I see her," he replied.

She smiled before leading him towards the large bed. She turned around to face him.

" Before I met you, I told myself I could never get involved with an older man," she began in a soft voice. " Derrick, our gardener, tried to bed me whenever he saw me after I hit fifteen. He was only six years or so older than me, but at the time, that was too much. And then…then you came along, Martin, and you changed everything for me. You're my other half. You complete me. There's nobody else I could love more than you."

Tenderly he kissed her, one hand cupping the back of her head as the other hand worked at the buttons on her blouse. He opened them with ease, leading her to suspect that this was not the first time he'd undone a blouse one handed. She decided she didn't care.

Cool air hit her skin as he finished undoing the white blouse – his hand splayed across her flat belly, causing her to draw a sharp breath against his mouth. He broke the kiss and slowly slid the blouse down over her shoulders – it dropped to the floor, forgotten.

His fingers trailed around the bottom of her bra. It was simple white cotton, with no frills or extra decorations, but to Martin's eyes it was the sexiest garment ever worn. He slowly kissed her as his hands moved round to her back – he found the clasps holding her bra in place and briefly toyed with them, but he didn't undo it. Instead his hands dropped down to the zip holding her skirt up. He pulled it down and the thick skirt fell straight to the floor. When it was gone he could clearly see the thin, silvery scars left by a vicious attack on her when she was just sixteen.

She stepped out of the skirt and moved closer to the bed. Shyly sitting down, she swiftly slipped out of the knee-high boots she'd worn against the cold and scooted up towards the pillows. Laying down she looked at him with a teasing smile on her face. A delicate blush stained her cheeks.

Martin took his time to undress, but she could see his chest rising and falling unsteadily – he wanted to rip her underwear off straight away and ravish her right there. She looked so sweet, so innocent; her curly brown hair was like a dark river against the pillow and her slender curves were soft.

He slipped his ever-open robe off and dropped it on to the same pile as the rest of Meredith's clothes. His heavy boots and socks were next, and his t-shirt was off in the flash of an eye. He wriggled out of his black trousers and climbed up on the bed next to her.

He was approaching his middle forties, but he still had a trim figure. His skin was pale from serious under-exposure to the sun, but he was also lean; there was very little spare fat on his body. He pulled her close to him with one deft movement and she could feel his erection straining against the soft material of his boxers. His hands held her by the hips as he kissed her; rolling on to his back he lifted her slightly so that she straddled his crotch. She gasped slightly, feeling the solid length of him pressing against the dampening material of her panties.

" My control really isn't all that good at the moment," he told her in a strangled voice, his hands closing convulsively around her waist. The feel of her straddled across his lap was driving him mad.

She moved slowly against him, loving the feelings it produced in herself, but loving his reaction even more – he gave a stifled moan and flipped her on to her back.

" You're a teasing little witch," he growled in her ear, nibbling on her lobe. She gasped before kissing him thoroughly.

She sat up and reached behind her to undo her bra. His eyes fixed on hers before moving downwards; she made sure she had his full attention before she carried on. Slowly she unhooked the fastening; with a wicked smile on her face, she eased first one and then the other of the straps down her shoulders. She slid the garment off, letting it drop over the side of the bed.

His eyes were fixed firmly on her small, pert breasts before they moved up once more to her face. He reached out with both hands to caress her; her eyes fluttered shut and she whimpered as he grazed her dusky nipples with his thumbs.

He sensed her need – it was a need reflected in him, too. Gently he pushed her back against the bed; he kissed her deeply before trailing more light, feathery kisses down her neck and upper chest. She moaned when his tongue teased at a nipple, clasping his head in place. When she finally let him go he repeated the treatment on her other nipple before slowly kissing his way down her bare stomach. His tongue circled her belly button. Meredith squirmed. The heat between her legs was fanned with each touch of his hot breath on her skin.

Kissing down each thigh he gently hooked his thumbs in the material at the side of her panties. He kissed her inner thigh as he pulled down and removed her underwear; the garment was discarded, forgotten.

But her hands weren't still. She wanted to touch him, to let him now how he was making her feel and to return some of the pleasure he was giving her. She reached out a hand to stroke his chest. Martin shuddered as her fingers touched him, running through the light dusting of hair; the shudder intensified as she hooked her own fingers in the waistband of his boxers and tugged them down. He wriggled out of them.

Now they were both naked, and they took the time to fully look at each other's bodies. His hardness, fully revealed, was pulsing readily. Curiously she trailed one hand down over his stomach. His hands tightened on her waist as she gently stroked one finger over him – he felt silky smooth on the surface, but she knew he had a rock-hard core.

He buried his face in the warm hollow between her neck and shoulder as she wrapped her hand around his member.

" Meredith…M-Meredith, are you sure you want to…"

" Martin, I love you," she murmured in reply, giving him a few exploratory strokes.

" I want to be yours…"

His control was running out _fast, _but there was still one important question he had to ask her before all rational thought left his brain.

" Are you using any protection?" he managed to get out with a choked moan as she continued to tease him.

She kissed his lips, nodding. The time for _her_ rational speech had gone now – there was just a need to be fulfilled.

This seemed to be enough for Martin. Gently parting her legs, he trailed his fingers down over her abdomen; with one finger he parted the soft curls protecting her moist treasure and delved inside her.

" _Merlin's balls_," she hissed, arching her back in instant pleasure. Taking his time he explored her, searching out the ultra-sensitive nub of flesh that controlled her. Gently he stroked it as Meredith moaned and clutched at the quilt.

The first finger was joined by a second as he delved deeper, and when his mouth closed hotly on one aching nipple she whimpered helplessly. She was very wet by now and his fingers moved easily inside her.

After a few minutes he withdrew both fingers and slowly kissed his way back down over her stomach. Her already parted thighs parted a little further and she trembled with excitement; his hot breath warmed her skin further.

When his tongue slipped in between her damp folds she cried his name, and as he pleasured her she arched her back and writhed against him. He struggled to keep her still, his firm grip keeping her in place as he explored her silky depths.

Finally, it was time. He kissed his way back up to her mouth, loving her so deeply in that moment that he felt sure his heart would burst. He shifted slightly so that he was lying cradled between her legs; she moved slightly to accommodate him, her legs instinctively coming up to encircle his hips. Their breathing was coming in harsh pants and their eyes were locked firmly together.

Supporting his weight on both his strong arms, he leaned forwards and kissed her deeply. His heart pounded as he positioned his erection at her soaking entrance; he pulled back a little way so that he could see her expression as he slowly, tenderly, pushed in to her. He paused when he was a few inches in, as much for his benefit as to allow her to get used to the feel of him inside her; she was so tight against him, like a hot, velvet sheath, and he knew he was going to explode very soon. Grimly counting to ten he got himself back under control and pushed further in.

He knew he'd found her hymen at the point where he met resistance.

" I love you, Meredith," he murmured before he kissed her deeply and pushed forwards a little more – and then he was through the barrier. She whimpered with pain, shifting uncomfortably beneath him. He paused again to let her grow accustomed to his full length inside her, resting his weight on his elbows.

He knew she was more than accustomed to him when she flexed her inner muscles, causing him to gasp with pleasure. Her hands trailed down his back and she gave him a light, playful swat on one buttock.

" Make love to me, Martin," she begged.

Martin was only too happy to oblige. As the snowstorm howled outside he began a gentle thrusting motion, insane pleasure building inside him with every motion.

This was better than anything Meredith could ever have imagined, even in her most arousing of fantasies. The pain of her virginity being broken was over in a few seconds and had faded away; now it was just a distant memory as he built up a steady tempo, his hips moving against hers. She raced to keep up with him, soft moans spilling from her lips as he increased his pace. He buried his face in her curly hair, loving her with every stroke.

Soon she was moaning with every thrust and he, too, was gasping uncontrollably, repeating her name over and over again in hoarse, ragged gasps.

The trembling sound of his voice was enough to tip her over the edge and she came hard, orgasm ripping through her and almost making her scream out his name. Her powerful contractions were enough to start Martin's climax – with a few powerful, frenzied thrusts he came deep inside her.

After a few moments he withdrew but carried her with him, holding her close in his arms as they both relaxed. Slowly their breathing returned to something like normal. Martin felt a faint wetness on his chest where her face was nestled against him. She was crying! Alarmed, he tilted her chin up so that he could look in to her eyes.

" Meredith, darling girl, what's the matter?" he asked tenderly, his northern accent more pronounced than ever. " Did – did I hurt you?"

Sniffling slightly she shook her head, and a smile brightened up her face.

" That was the most perfect thing I've ever felt," she replied softly. " I – I never imagined it could be like that."

He dropped a light kiss on her forehead as he pulled the blankets up around them. The fire was dying down now, the fading light faintly gilding their sweat-sheened bodies. The only sounds were their faint breathing and the steady crackle of the fire.

" Meredith…I love you."

" I love you, too."


	27. Chapter 27

**CHAPTER FOUR**

_As long as the band can play, here is where I'm gonna stay_

_I'm gonna stay at the shouting end_

_The shouting end of life_

– _The Shouting End of Life, by the Oysterband_

Meredith awoke the next morning snuggled in to a contented cocoon. Martin was behind her; his arms wrapped comfortingly around her and his breath lightly fanning her face. He woke within moments of her.

" Good morning," he told her with a gentle kiss to the back of her neck. She turned round to face him, returning his light kiss with a deeper one; passion flared in his eyes and for some time the world was once again shut out as they made love.

When the passion had abated somewhat Meredith reluctantly pulled herself out of bed. She dressed quickly – the fire had died down during the night and the room was cold. She gathered up the previous day's clothes (including her own underwear) and deposited them in the laundry basket. She didn't believe in keeping house elves; the Research Centre's work was too delicate to risk being upset by an over-zealous cleaner.

Martin watched her bustle about. There was a faint smile on his face.

" Don't think you're lying about in bed all day, you lazy urchin," she bossed him. Her eyes twinkled as she passed the bed.

When she passed close enough for him to touch, he reached out and grabbed her. Squealing, she landed on the bed next to him; he turned on his side and kissed her thoroughly.

" Stop that," she gently chastised him. " I have work to do today, even if you don't – that lake won't keep itself Defrosted, you know."

He grinned. "Actually, that's where you're wrong," he informed her. " You can spell the lake to a song, or a tune, so that all you have to do is sing or play the piece to activate the spell. You don't even need to leave the house."

She was intrigued, but she still had a bed to make! Laughingly she pushed him out and threw his clothes at him.

" Get dressed!" she said cheerfully. " I'll make you some breakfast, and then you can tell me about this spell."

Breakfast was another hearty fry-up, Meredith's favourite and speciality. Martin explained how the spell worked between mouthfuls of sausage.

" It's actually very simple. The Ministry ought to bring back this form of magic, teach it in schools, it's so effective."

" But not everybody is musically gifted," she reminded him.

Martin shrugged. " Doesn't matter. It could be taught as an optional subject in the second or third year, perhaps, when people have settled in."

She waved aside his desire to get magical music theory taught in schools and encouraged him to explain how a musical Defrosting charm could work.

" We'll do it now," he told her. " Do you have your pipe on you?"

Nodding, she withdrew it from a pocket of her skirt.

" Now, do you remember how you feel when you cast a Defrosting charm with your wand? Or better yet, when you perform it wandless?"

She paused, trying to remember that feeling. She was excited to find that she could guess where he was going with this explanation, and took the time to properly remember exactly how she felt. It was – a _warm_ sort of feeling, the feeling of power trickling out of her. She nodded.

" Ok, now think of a tune. Just a short one – even a few bars would do."

She nodded again. A Defrosting charm needed quite a sprightly tune to go with it; she would be commanding the ice to melt away and change form.

" Now, play your tune whilst remembering how it felt to cast a Defrosting charm. Redirect the power in to your whistle; key it to the song. Do you understand?

She nodded a third time – it was blindingly simple, and she was surprised more people weren't doing it!

She breathed in to the whistle, forcing power in to it. The whistle was just another form of wand, she remembered – another focus. She played four bars and stopped.

" Now we test it," he told her. " You've keyed that tune to that charm, and it'll perform that spell forever more or until you retune it. Play it again."

She obeyed. But this time she felt power flowing _out_ of her whistle; a faint trail of golden sparks flew out of the end. It was over quickly.

" Apparate over to the lake and when you come back you can tell me how brilliant I am."

Rising to her feet she grinned and lightly cuffed his ear. With a loud _crack_ she disappeared.

She reappeared a few seconds later, her arms wrapped tightly around herself, the whistle clutched in her frozen fingers.

" It's bloody _cold_ out there!" she hissed, hopping from foot to foot.

Martin was on his feet in a second, wrapping strong arms around her and pressing his body against hers. Body heat was the best thing to heat her up, and it was also a prime opportunity to reaffirm his love for her. He dropped a light kiss on her curls.

" Well?" he asked her.

" It worked perfectly," she grinned. " Martin, this opens up so many doors for me! The research we can do! Oh, speaking of research – what did the rest of the Grindylows say to my job offer?"

Martin smiled. " They said thank you very much, it was a very generous offer and they would be delighted to come and work for you – but not until next year."

Her smile faded slightly. " Oh – I should have realised," she replied. " They'll want to spend time with their families. I understand."

" That's just old Dor and Eric," Martin added. " They've got young kids to look after. Liam and Daire should be here before the end of the day."

Meredith squealed delightedly. " You got them to come!" she said, throwing her arms around Martin and kissing his cheek. " You're brilliant!"

" I try," he replied in a _faux_-modest voice. He took the opportunity to kiss her deeply; when he raised his head his eyes were slightly glazed.

" You really are a little witch, you know," he told her in a husky tone of voice.

" Some kind of enchantress."

She smiled shyly. " Well, then, you're an enchanter," she replied. " You cast a spell over me seven years ago, and now I'm yours forever."

The only answer he had for that was another kiss.

True to Martin's word, Daire and Liam arrived at the Hampshire estate before the day was out. They had a lot to say about the snowstorms – namely, how they were freezing their nadgers off – but they didn't have any ideas as to why there were blizzards in late July.

She spent the early evening showing them where their offices and laboratories would be and introducing them to the few remaining staff on site; there was space in one of the smaller buildings behind the mansion that were also connected to her internal floo network.

" I know they're small," she told them, " but if you need more space, just let me know and we can expand them when the snow clears."

" _If_ the snow clears," Liam told her darkly. " It could be You-Know-Who, come back from the dead to freeze us all in to our graves."

"Don't be such a killjoy, Liam!" Martin chided, punching him lightly on the arm.

" We all know Harry Potter did for old Mouldyshorts. The next Ice Age isn't his style, anyway."

Something about what Martin had said lodged in Meredith's mind, prompting her to try and dig for an old memory throughout the rest of the evening. She invited Martin, Liam and Daire to a late meal in her warm, spacious kitchen as she tried to remember just what it was that was nagging her memory.

Somehow, copious amounts of alcohol appeared – she suspected Daire had smuggled in the large jugs and bottles. She would have to ask him just how he'd done that. However the deed had been done, there was a lot of alcohol to be drunk, and all three men were more than keen to get it down them. She restricted herself to a few small glasses of red wine – too much alcohol made her tipsy – and she became alarmed when she noticed that each man had drunk enough to down a bear!

" Don't you think you've had enough to drink?" she tried desperately at one point.

" Nonsense, my dear lady," Liam told her jovially. The tall Scotsman was becoming decidedly more cheerful the more he drank. " We are no common drinkers. We'll drink anyone under the table." He was swaying slightly in his seat, though his words weren't slurred at all.

" We drank the infamous Wizard's Star Vodka and lived to tell the tale," Daire added. He hiccoughed gently and then grinned. " All the ice we ploughed through to find it, too…hey, Meredith, got any Wizard's Star buried under your snow?" he asked hopefully.

An Ice Age, ice…ice! That was the memory she was trying to find, of the time she'd met a brace of centaurs in the Forbidden Forest at Hogwarts, and they had given her a prophecy! Now, if she could just remember what that prophecy had been…!

Martin broke in to slightly drunken singing, and the memory was forgotten. Sighing, she made a mental note to sit down and think about it later.

" Come on, Meredith, play with me," Martin begged her. She raised one eyebrow, choosing to deliberately misinterpret him.

" In public, darling? With all these people around? On the kitchen table? I _say_," she replied, her eyes gleaming wickedly.

Daire and Liam roared with laughter; Martin grinned.

" No, I meant play your whistle to my song," he told her. " Silly girl."

Meredith chuckled, reaching for her whistle. She hadn't had many chances to play with other musicians over the last six years; the people she worked with were researchers. Their interests lay in hard magic, not music.

" Be gentle with me, ok?" she asked Martin. " I don't have a lot of experience with these sorts of things."

" Give us a minute," Daire told them, " and we'll get our instruments."

Daire and Liam disappeared through the fireplace, using the internal floo network to reach their rooms without having to go outside. Meredith used the time to run through her scales and to check that her whistle was still in full working order. She knew she was acting nervously, but that was how she felt – she was about to play with seasoned musicians, men who had more than twenty years concert experience. And what did she have? Six or seven years of occasional playing.

" You'll be fine," Martin told her softly. She smiled at him, not wholly reassured, but taking what comfort she could.

Liam and Daire returned with their instruments – Daire particularly was burdened as he was struggling to hold his guitar and his cello at the same time. She gave him a hand with it and he flashed her a grateful smile. Liam handed Martin his accordion.

They spent a few moments tuning their instruments before looking to Martin to tell them what to play.

" We'll play an instrumental first, something for Meredith to listen to." He reached inside his robe and pulled out a slightly scruffy looking sheaf of papers; he selected one and handed it to her. " This is what we'll be playing. Do you know it?"

She nodded happily – luckily for her, it was one she knew well, and so appropriate to the weather – Snow in the Valley!

" I know this," she replied.

She tapped her whistle against her leg to keep time as the men played the tune; they didn't need any sheet music themselves, and she supposed they must have memorised scores of songs in their time. She felt a little jealous of that ability.

It had several variations but they only played the first one. They stopped at the end and Martin gave her an enquiring look that asked her if she wanted to join in with the second variation; grinning she put the whistle to her lips and played.

She kept her eyes closed as she played so that they wouldn't distract her. She concentrated on the ebb and flow of the music, on the placement of her fingers on her instrument…and time moved on.

Before she knew it they were playing another tune, and then another, and then another. Meredith joined in with them all and when they played tunes she didn't know, she sat and listened, absorbing it all. Whistle playing was thirsty work – she paused frequently to take sips from her wine glass, and she didn't notice that it was never empty. Daire was keeping it topped up for her.

After a while they switched instruments. Daire swapped his guitar for the cello and Martin moved on to singing; although they'd played many tunes none of them had sung yet.

Meredith decided to sit this one out and just listen; she didn't think she had a particularly good singing voice but all three men badgered her ceaselessly for a solid ten minutes until she agreed to at least try and sing.

Much to her surprise, they praised her voice. " It's sweet, Meredith," Martin told her. " Sweet and true, just like you." She blushed as the others laughed, but Liam and Daire also agreed.

They played and sang together for hours, and when they finally decided to call it a night it was very early in the morning. All three men were swaying slightly, even Martin, but that was the only outward sign of their drunkenness. She could only imagine the abuse their livers must be taking!

Martin followed her up to bed and she tried to talk to him about it as they got ready for bed. It was cold in their room until she built up the fire; she changed in to her nightie as quickly as she could.

Martin clearly didn't want to talk about his drinking habits.

" Look, Meredith, it's part of my life," he told her. " I've followed the same pattern since I was old enough to work a still. The lads drink as much as me, if not more, and we're all still fine. I think our livers are all pickled now anyway."

She snuggled up against him as he put his arms around her.

" I worry about you, Martin," she mumbled sleepily against his chest. " You're my life. If anything were to happen to you…"

He kissed her tenderly. " Nothing will happen to me. Not while I have you to look after me."


	28. Chapter 28

**CHAPTER FIVE**

_One day, one night one moment_

_And a dream to be made_

_I'll flag, I'll fall, I'll falter_

_I'll find my day maybe_

_Far and away_

– _Book of Days, by Enya_

When Meredith awoke the next morning she felt as if she'd died but nobody had buried her. Her head was pounding and she felt sick to her stomach; she almost fell out of bed and staggered to the bathroom. Falling to her knees in front of the toilet she rapidly disgorged the contents of her stomach.

She felt cool hands holding her hair out of the way and tenderly stroking the back of her neck. When she felt like she might just be able to stand up without being sick she struggled to her feet; Martin helped her up.

" Come on, we need to get you some coffee," he told her gently, kissing her forehead. " That's a nasty hangover you've got there."

" Hangover!" she asked in a tiny, fragile voice; she felt as if every little sound would spit her head apart. " I can't have one. I only had a few glasses last night."

" Ah, but you didn't notice that Daire was keeping your glass full," he replied. " I'm going to beat him up for that later on. But now, we need to get you feeling better. Coffee is the start – and then I'll teach you the Hangover Pick-Me-Up Charm."

" There's a spell to counteract hangovers?" she asked with interest, her keen researcher's instincts briefly overcoming her need to crawl up in to a ball and die.

Martin grinned. " Oh, yes. Much loved by musicians and bar crawlers the world over, my darling girl."

Meredith let him coddle her. She'd looked after herself for years – virtually since her mother had died, although Cook had helped her – and it felt nice to be treated like this.

He wrapped her silk dressing gown around her, muttering. " Don't you have anything warmer? Like a nice bathrobe or something?"

" I come out of my bath naked. I dry myself off and go to bed. I don't need one," she groaned. " Is it me, or is it really, really bright in here?"

Martin rolled his eyes. " It's you, girl. The curtains are still closed and the fire has burned down. And don't give me mental images like that, not when you're still hung over and I've not had any breakfast yet."

She managed a tiny smile and made no protest as he led her downstairs. To her surprise the kitchen was already toasty and warm due to the industrious presence of Liam and Daire; they were bustling around the room cooking what smelt like a hearty fry-up. Her stomach growled and then lurched; growing pale she wrapped her arms around herself and sat down quickly.

" Morning, Meredith," they greeted her cheerfully, and she was almost ready to hex them for that cheerfulness.

" I'm going to kill whoever kept me drinking last night," she grumbled, running a hand through her mussed hair.

" Cheer up, love," Daire grinned back at her. " It stopped snowing a few minutes ago. When you feel better, we can go out and make snowmen."

" Then I'm going to ram a handful of snow right up your-"

" Here, drink this," Martin interrupted swiftly, putting a large mug of strong black coffee on the table in front of her. She bit her lip to keep the insult firmly in check and took a sip of the gloriously hot coffee.

The men chatted quietly for a few minutes while she drank her coffee, the nausea gradually fading to a bearable level.

" Tell me about the Hangover Pick-Me-Up Charm," she commanded when she was half way down the cup. " And Daire, I really am going to make you pay for getting me drunk last night."

He grinned unrepentantly at her. " Ooh, will I need a spanking, Miss Corrigan?" he teased her cheekily.

She pointed one trembling, enraged finger at him and a beam of red light shot out of it. With a remarkable sense of self-preservation Daire ducked and swiftly hid behind Liam's taller frame, chuckling quietly.

Martin made disgusted noises. " Ignore him, Meredith. He's no better than a six year old."

Meredith glared at the two tall men as Martin sat down opposite her and explained how the Hangover Pick-Me-Up Charm worked.

" Normally you just tap your throat three times with your wand and say _Siccus_," he told her. " But the last thing you want to be doing when you realise you're hung over is to talk. About the only thing we're capable of the morning after the night before is humming – so we tuned the spell in to a snatch of song that we hum."

" Good idea," she replied. " I think I'll tune mine in to the melody of _Seven Nights Drunk_," she added.

" Oh as I came home so drunk I couldn't see-o, there I saw a horse where no horse should be-o…." Daire and Liam broke out simultaneously, and she rolled her eyes.

" Honestly, I'm beginning to think I'm the only adult in this whole bloody house," she muttered. " _Accio wand_."

Her wand came flying in to the room and she put up a hand to catch it. She didn't have the patience to tune the spell just yet – she wanted to feel better, and she wanted it _now_. She tapped her throat three times with the end of her wand and said a touch hoarsely, " Siccus."

The change was immediate and immensely gratifying. The nausea vanished straight away and the little man pounding on her head died; her gritty mouth felt moist and refreshed and she actually thought she might be able to eat something. She sniffed appreciatively.

She tucked her wand in to the belt of her silk dressing gown and got to her feet.

" Martin, come here so I can kiss you," she commanded. He was only too happy to oblige!

They all sat down a short while later to a large breakfast and Meredith decided she'd really quite like to go out and play in the snow. She still had her research but she reasoned to herself that it would always be there. The snow would not. If it had stopped snowing that probably meant that that was all they were going to get.

She whistled up the Defrosting Charm for the lake after she finished her coffee and was on the point of going upstairs to get dressed when a massive booming noise rang through the mansion. Meredith raised her head, surprised – that was somebody knocking on her front door! Years before she'd had the knocker magically amplified so that it could be heard throughout the mansion; a lot of deliveries of supplies were made to the estate and she'd grown fed up with missing them. But why would somebody be knocking on her door now? Who would be visiting her when most of Great Britain was shut down? She thought perhaps it might be one of her friends – Ophelia or Mariana, maybe – but they all knew to use the back door and to just come right on in.

" I'd better go and answer that," she remarked, wrapping her dressing gown more tightly around herself and wriggling her toes in her fluffy slippers. She padded out of the kitchen and through to the Entrance Hall. Waving her hand at the large, solid wooden door, it opened a crack. Cautiously she peered out.

" Good morning, cousin," the woman on the other side began.

Meredith gawped, a gesture she was _not_ used to performing. The woman calmly standing in the snow outside was – well, there was no other word for it. She was beautiful. _And_ she was her cousin!

She hadn't seen Morgana Montague since her father's funeral, and then only briefly, but she hadn't looked anything like the ice princess standing opposite her now. She remembered that Morgana had always looked very much like her – curly brown hair, green eyes, and a curvy figure. All of that was gone now. Her hair was long, white and straight, coming down to the middle of her back, and her glasses were gone. Meredith imagined she must have been wearing some of the magical contact lenses she herself wore; Morgana's eyes were a strong shade of blue.

But Morgana had always had a good figure, the same as Meredith. That too was changed. She was wearing warm, fur-lined robes, but she looked almost painfully thin and her face was gaunt. And there was an unpleasant sparkle in these blue eyes.

" You've – changed…" was all Meredith was able to get out as her eyes moved over her cousin.

Morgana offered her a thin smile. " Oh, but for the better. May I come in?" She gave a nasty little titter. " As you can feel, it's freezing out here. And you're not dressed for the weather." Her own eyes moved over Meredith, leaving her in no doubt that the white-haired woman thought she looked poor and scruffy. Privately, Meredith agreed, but found she didn't really care. Only a little while ago she'd been hung over!

" Of course, of course," she muttered, opening the door wide enough for Morgana to sweep in. Meredith shut the door with a wave of her hand.

" Why don't you come in to the kitchen? I can offer you some breakfast, if you'd like some?" She didn't say that her cousin seriously looked as if she could do with a decent meal, but another thin smile told her Morgana knew exactly what she was thinking. Meredith's lips pursed as she realised they were on the same wavelength, and mentally braced herself for a bitch-fest. Why had she come here?

" A spot of tea would go down well," was all Morgana said. Silently Meredith led her in to the kitchen.

"- and then Dor tips this stuff down his throat, right, and he's pissed for a week!"

Daire was clearly telling what must have been quite a funny story, judging from the howls of laughter emanating from Liam and Martin. Meredith gave them all a frosty glare and cleared her throat – the laughter stopped immediately.

" This is my cousin Morgana," she said. " Martin, would you put the kettle on, please? Take a seat, Morgana, why don't you."

Morgana sniffed politely and gingerly lowered herself to the seat proffered; clearly she wasn't the sort of person who associated with kitchens. It struck Meredith then that her cousin was probably even more stuck up and snooty than she had been at school!

" Morgana, this is my partner Martin Grimwood and his friends Liam Tefler and Daire Blane, part of a band called the Grindylows. Do you remember them from when we were at Hogwarts? They ran an extra-curricular course in music?"

Morgana gave another of her polite little sniffs. " Yes, I remember," she replied.

" And frankly I'm amazed that you choose to besmirch the family name with common riff-raff. I doubt a single one of them is pure-blooded."

Meredith gasped with outrage and was about to have a go at her cousin when Martin interrupted her. His voice was icy and hard.

" I find the so called 'pure-blooded' families to be insufferably rude," he began.

" There are rare exceptions, such as your better relative here, but on the whole people like you make me glad to have more Muggle blood running in my veins. And if you're as pureblooded as you claim, young lady, that means you're an inbred moron. I suppose that's what you must be," he finished in a casual, deliberately insulting tone.

Morgana was up on her feet in a second. " You filthy little muggle-lover," she hissed. " If it was up to me you'd all be doing hard labour in Azkaban-"

" Enough!" Meredith shouted, shooting Daire and Liam warning looks that clearly told them to stay out of it. " Morgana, why are you here? I'm sure this isn't just a social visit. You virtually ignored me all through school, and I haven't even seen you for years."

Morgana subsided but there was a predatory gleam in her eyes.

" There's a good reason you haven't seen me for a long time, my dear little cousin," she replied. Her voice was honey-soft but Meredith wasn't taken in at all. " I've been…busy. Travelling. Exploring…"

" Get to the point," Meredith demanded.

Morgana laughed, and her laugh was full throated and strong, a sound that was at odds with her emaciated appearance.

" Sweet, naïve Meredith," she chuckled. " Lover to the common folk. Oh, how Voldemort would have loved to kill someone like you."

Meredith's brows slammed together in a heavy frown. " What in the name of Merlin are you talking about?"

" Voldemort was a brilliant man, but ultimately flawed. He was consumed by his own ego. He sought to cheat death, to tie himself to the mortal plain; he was under the mistaken impression that he could face down old magic and win. _He was wrong_. I am better than him, stronger, more focussed – only I have the foresight to realise that I can make old magic work for _me_!" she finished on a triumphant note.

Meredith was still frowning. " I always knew you were a snob, Morgana, but I never knew you were a mad snob. I think you'd better leave if you don't have anything sensible to say."

" Oh, yes," Morgana sneered, " and of course, you're so much _better_ than me. I always found our positions so ironic…_you_ were the one whose mother died, whose father was distant and cold, and yet _you_ were the one who got all the success." She shot a quick, venomous look at Martin. " Did you know our mothers were twins? Did she tell you that?"

She didn't give Martin a chance to reply, instead forging on with what sounded like a long held-back rant.

" Our mothers were twins, and we were so alike! We were born on the same day, within minutes of each other. We should have been friends as children, but no, Meredith's only friends were those scabby little rats and her books."

" They were not scabby!" Meredith shot back hotly, her hands clenched in to fists at her sides.

" Shut up," Morgana hissed. Meredith, surprised, did as she was told, gulping down another angry retort.

" So, we were similar. Almost the same…we could have been sisters, until her mother was killed and her father ignored her. I felt far more superior to you then, did you know that? Both my parents were alive and I knew they loved me. Your father didn't love you."

Meredith was trembling with anger and she could see that both Daire and Liam were looking like they wished they hadn't been around when this row began. She didn't blame them.

" I was the popular one at school, but you were the smart one," Morgana continued.

" I always thought that was unfair. I'm smart – I know I'm smart – but I chose to have lots of friends, you see. The poor little book worm got all the glory, but I got friends."

" And where are your friends now, huh?" Meredith sneered. " Did they leave you when they found out what a bitch you were?"

To her surprise Morgana laughed. " No, dear cousin, oh no. Quite the contrary. Bitchiness was always a trait to be admired in the Slytherin House; I was always quite surprised that you were Sorted there. I still have all my friends. Every leader needs followers, you see. And what a leader I shall be…" Her eyes seemed to loose focus as she drifted off in to a daydream.

Meredith coughed pointedly. " This still doesn't explain why you've come to see me. Alright, so I've always done better than you – at school, and now with my Research Centre. Big deal! Get over it already! If you're so smart, then you've got the capability to really do something with your life. Stop bitching about it and get on with it!"

Morgana treated her to a pitying stare. " Oh but I am, Meredith, I am. You'd be proud of me. I've been _researching_, investigating old magic, magic that Voldemort himself tried to destroy and defy – but you can't destroy that because it's tied in to the very fabric of the universe!" She gave a slightly hysterical laugh. " I found my old magic. Found it, and conquered it – I have powers at my command that you could never dream of!"

" I think you need an extended stay at St. Mungo's," Meredith remarked, slowly edging away from her clearly mad cousin. Her hand inched towards her wand.

" You're wrong," Morgana replied hoarsely, her eyes bright and feverish. " I have command of the ice and snow! I have command over winter itself! This frozen land will be mine!"

And suddenly it all clicked in to place for Meredith, rushing through her brain like a bolt of lightning. Morgana was the cause of all this bad weather! Somehow she'd tipped nature's cycle out of balance, knocked it askew. And with that realisation came another, more powerful realisation – the prophecy that the black centaurs had told her about so long ago was about this very moment.

" _Beware a time of ice."_

" _A time of snow, of frozen rain and howling gales."_

" _You will see the essence of the thing, not the thing itself."_

" _A heart of fire may defeat a soul of ice. Love conquers death."_

At the time Meredith didn't have any clue what the centaurs were talking about but now it all came in to horrible, frightening clarity.

" How?" was all she said.

Morgana gave her a cunning, secretive smile. " I read old texts. I talked to old wizards. I found what I was looking for…the key to winter…the heart of winter itself!"

" Stop talking in riddles and tell me what you really mean!" Meredith almost shouted.

Morgana's smile widened in to a grin. " _This_ is what I mean!" she replied triumphantly, reaching in to her robes to pull out a small, glittering object. She held it out on her open palm.

Meredith's mouth opened in a perfect _o_ of surprise. The object Morgana held was a small snow globe, smaller than an apple. The globe itself was fashioned from glass and she could see a howling blizzard inside; oddly there was a smallish hole cracked in the glass. But the snowstorm remained inside.

Stranger still, however, was the way that a thin layer of frost was forming over Morgana's hand as she held the globe. Her hand trembled more and more with every passing second and it was clear that holding such a device hurt her; her face was locked in an expression of fierce concentration as she fought some sort of internal battle.

" See how my power works," Morgana hissed in a voice strained with pain. " The key to my success. Of course, wielding such power has its drawbacks…"

Meredith assumed she meant the pain of holding the globe, and the physical changes – her snow-white hair and half-starved figure.

" But why?" she asked. " Why go to all this bother? Anyone can see this is killing you," she finished softly.

Morgana snorted. " Everybody dies, in time. I have no fear of death, for my name shall live on forever. I have released the Spirit of Winter and until I decide otherwise, the whole of this land will be locked in an Ice Age," she gloated. " The Ministry, Aurors, even Potter…nobody can stop me! The ice and snow will kill them all off, and then I'll take the power that rightfully belongs to me!"

Meredith was shocked, appalled, but also genuinely puzzled.

" But why come _here_?" she asked. " Surely coming to gloat that you're a madwoman isn't your only reason for coming to see me?"

Morgana grinned and Meredith thought it was like looking at a skull, her cousin was so thin and gaunt. " I know how much you like a challenge, little cousin," she replied. " And I know that you have a most distressing social conscience, so you'll be honour-bound to try and stop me. It's pitiful, really, but there you go. I'll see you freeze to death before you ever stop me."

" Well that's where you're wrong-" Meredith said, drawing her wand.

But Morgana was laughing, her face a mask of mixed pain and humour as her hand closed around the broken snow globe through which she had released the Spirit of Winter – old magic, ancient magic. Laughing still, she Disapparated with a familiar loud crack.


	29. Chapter 29

**CHAPTER SIX**

_In the memory you'll fine me, eyes burning up_

_The darkness holding me tightly until the sun rises up_

_Forgotten – by Linkin Park_

There was silence in the warm room for several long seconds before Meredith spoke again.

" Damn right I'm going to try and stop her," she said in a forceful tone of voice, making a move towards the exit to the kitchen. " I need to go and get dressed."

" Meredith, no!" Martin spoke up for the first time since his outburst earlier on in the unpleasant confrontation. " You don't know what she's got planned – it could be a trap…" His hand closed around her wrist and their eyes met.

Unspoken understanding passed between them; Liam and Daire shifted uncomfortably.

" Somebody has to stop her," Meredith said eventually. " And if not me, then who?"

" I let you go once before, my darling girl, but never again," Martin told her, his grip on her wrist tightening.

" She'll get clean away if I don't go _soon_!" she exclaimed. " I can still track her magical trail for another few minutes-"

There was another loud _crack_ and this time they all drew their wands, training them steadily on the new figure that had so rudely Apparated in to the kitchen. Apparating in to a person's home was considered one of the rudest things you could do, short of actually slapping them round the face and demanding a duel.

Meredith peered at the newcomer – it was a woman, about the same age as her, with a mass of curls that strained for release from being tightly plaited and pinned back out of her face. Brown eyes stared urgently out at them.

" Look, I'm terribly sorry to barge in like this, I know it's frightfully rude, but have any of you seen a woman with white hair in the last few minutes?"

Meredith opened her eyes wide with surprise. " Well bugger me," she said without preamble. " Hermione Granger. I never thought I'd see the day you graced my kitchen with your presence."

A strained smile passed between them; during school they were both in direct competition for the label of most gifted student. Hermione had dropped out after Harry Potter had defeated Voldemort during the summer holidays of their sixth year; the school had been shut down after Dumbledore's death but it was reopened after it was confirmed Voldemort really was dead once and for all. Meredith and many other students had gone back, but Hermione Granger, Ronald Weasley and Harry had all been invited to take up positions as Aurors at the Ministry. She hadn't heard very much about any of them since that time.

" I'd love to sit down and chat over tea," Hermione remarked, an edge to her voice,

" but I have a Dark Witch to catch. She Apparated to this estate. If she's here and you're not telling me-"

Meredith shook her head rapidly. " She's not in the house. She Apparated a few minutes ago. Do you know who she is? My cousin?" Hermione nodded tautly.

" We've been on her trail ever since we managed to find out what was causing all this damned snow," Hermione told them.

" The Spirit of Winter, she told me. She had it in a little snow globe."

Hermione nodded again. " It's ancient magic – tied in to the fabric of reality, natural magic. Look, if she's not here I really need to go and find her-"

" I think she must still be on the estate somewhere," Martin rumbled. " You saw how she looked, Meredith – using this kind of old magic has sucked all the life from her. She looked like a skeleton."

Hermione nodded thoughtfully. " He's right." She peered at him. " Did you used to teach at Hogwarts?" she asked.

He smiled. " Briefly, my dear, briefly."

Hermione shook her head – it was unimportant. " I'm off, then. Stay in the house – more Aurors will be along in a few minutes, but they're following _my_ trail. They won't come in here." And with another loud _crack_ she was gone.

" She's my cousin!" Meredith muttered furiously and Apparated upstairs before Martin could stop her. Rapidly she summoned her warmest clothes – a thick, fur-lined skirt, heavy winter boots, a long blouse and ankle-length winter coat – and began to get dressed.

But Martin was close behind her, Apparating only a few paces away from her. He caught her by both arms this time.

" No!" he demanded, real fear on his face. " Meredith, please. You can't go – you can't leave me-" His throat worked to get more words out, and Meredith was upset to notice that tears were glimmering in his eyes. She'd never seen him so worked up about anything before.

She paused in her dressing, with her blouse half-buttoned.

" This is more than something between you and I," she said softly, pleadingly. " She's meddling with things that _need_ to be left well alone, and she has to be stopped."

" But Hermione's gone after her! You don't need to go!"

" Hermione may be a brilliant witch but she doesn't know Morgana like I do," she replied. " Please, Martin. You know I love you more than anything but I have to go. I have to do this."

Martin pulled her close to him, one hand pushing the small of her back to get her closer to him and the other hand tangling in her curls. He kissed her like a man possessed; desperately, as if this might be the last kiss he ever shared with her.

" Then take me with you," he said when he finally broke the kiss.

" Martin, I can't-"

" Yes you can!" he demanded. " I'm older than you and I've got more experience than you. I can sing any spell you like. I could _make _you stay with me."

That he would threaten her with the Imperius Curse to make her stay with him was both scary and exhilarating; scary that he would go to those lengths, but exhilarating that he cared for her so deeply.

" I can't stop you from going with me," she replied eventually, " as much as I would like to. You're right. I – I suppose it would be foolish to look for Morgana alone."

He dropped a light kiss on her forehead.

" I drank Wizard's Star Vodka and survived," he told her with the trace of a smile. " I can live through anything."

Once they were both fully and rapidly dressed for the freezing cold weather they Apparated back downstairs. Meredith had made sure she was carrying both her wand and her whistle; she doubted she would need the instrument – she only had a few spells tuned to it, after all – but it made her feel slightly safer to have it with her.

Daire and Liam were more than happy to stay in the mansion, though they did briefly try and talk both of them out of going. It was wasted breath. With a brief admonition to the two men not to drink all of the remaining alcohol, Martin and Meredith Apparated out of the house, following the now faint traces of Morgana's trail.

When their feet set down on the snow they both gasped and huddled closer together. The blizzard had started up again during Morgana and Hermione's visits and now it was roaring far more fiercely than it ever had before; Meredith put a hand barely a foot away from her face and couldn't see it. The swirling snow completely blocked out the sun, leaving them in a dim, frozen world.

" It's never been as bad as this!" Martin shouted above the roaring of the snow.

" That must mean Morgana is still on the estate!" Meredith shouted back. The air was almost freezing her lungs and she wished she'd thought to bring a scarf. " It's always going to be at its strongest wherever she is – where the Spirit of Winter is!"

They pushed forwards through the howling blizzard, holding each other's hands as tightly as they could. Her fingers were already freezing and virtually numb, and she thought it was ridiculous that she'd assumed she would be able to play her whistle in this weather.

There was a flash of darker colour in the dull grey-white of the storm and they zeroed in on it. They were almost on the figure when they realised it was lying down…collapsed in the snow, with more snow rapidly piling up over it. Morgana. Her snow-white hair almost blended in with the storm around her. There was no sign of Hermione or any other Aurors, and she wondered briefly where they were.

Meredith dropped to her knees next to her cousin, frantically brushing snow away from the other woman's face. Was she still alive?

The gaunt figure's eyes fluttered weakly but they still glowed with that same wicked delight – Meredith was surprised at the force of that glare. Morgana began to try and struggle to her feet but Meredith was ruthless; she pushed her back down and began rifling through her pockets, desperately trying to find the broken snow globe. She had no idea what she would do with it when she found it; her only goal now was to get it off her cousin.

Morgana coughed, a racking, painful noise that made both Meredith and Martin wince.

" Take it if you will," she gasped, relaxing back in to the snow. " It'll kill you just the same!"

Two things happened at the same time – Meredith's frozen fingers closed around a hard, round object that numbed her fingers further. Then she and Martin were both thrown back with a tremendous amount of force, as if a giant, invisible hand had picked them up and casually tossed them away. Morgana had blasted them aside!

The emaciated woman struggled unsteadily to her feet, as Martin and Meredith lay briefly stunned. Her wand was clutched tightly in her hand and she swayed with exhaustion, white hair blowing sideways in the storm.

" _Sayonara_, cousin!" she called. " Say hello to that interfering mudblood Granger for me!" And with a loud _crack_ that was completely obliterated by the storm, she Disapparated.

Meredith was frozen all over. It would be the easiest thing in the world just to stay on the floor and sleep…

" Meredith, wake up!" a sharp voice interrupted her daydreaming. It was laden with fear – that alone penetrated the fog that was slowly flooding her mind. She opened her eyes.

Martin was leaning over her, shaking her hard, trying to get her to wake up, to stop her from taking that final sleep. With a groan she let him help her to her feet.

She felt a weight on her hand and realised with a sick lurch that the snow globe was frozen to her palm; she held it up so that it was level with her eyes and tried to pull it off with her other hand. It produced a nasty, deep-set pain that told her she'd have lasting damage later on. It refused to budge.

Meredith made a frustrated noise. " She got away, Martin!"

" But you've got the snow globe!" he replied over the howl of the storm.

Meredith shook her hand in another vain attempt to rid herself of the ancient enchanted item, but it was frozen to her skin like glue.

But a curious thing happened when she shook it. It was almost as if she were shaking the storm itself; the snow flakes had been blowing in a steady, almost horizontal stream; when she shook the globe the flakes blew all over the place.

" _Who calls me from my aeons-long slumber?"_

Meredith screeched and attempted to hold her hands up to her ears to block out the awful screeching, howling, screaming voice; Martin's hands were clapped firmly over his ears and his teeth were gritted.

" What is that voice?" he shouted.

" I don't know!" she shouted back.

" _I am the Spirit of Winter,"_ the voice came again, crashing against their senses like a missile. _" I am the frozen snow storm. I am the howling gale. I am the deep tundra, the mighty glacier, the lonely death. Why have you called me?"_

" I didn't call you!" Meredith almost screamed; the voice grated on her nerves, making her shudder and shiver like hearing nails running down a blackboard.

" _You hold the globe, mortal woman. You called me. You must direct my fury."_

" I didn't call you!" she howled again. " Go back in your globe!"

" _Once unleashed I must take my victims,"_ the screeching voice demanded. _" The other mortal woman directed my fury well. I have not covered this part of the world for many, many centuries."_

Meredith wished she could see who she was speaking to; she found talking to the frozen air to be very disconcerting. Her hand throbbed.

" You're not meant to walk the world yet. It's not your time! This is supposed to be the middle of summer! Go back to your globe!"

" _You will not direct my powers, mortal woman? You will not wield my fury?"_

" No!" Meredith was screaming the words now, her throat almost hoarse from the effort.

" _Then I will take my victims anyway…starting with him."_

The howling gale lashed out with a sudden, sickening blow that knocked Martin flat on his back with a strangled yell. He lay still and Meredith was beside him in a second, her free hand going to his face, stroking his cheek, urging him to wake up, to get up, to please be alive…!

Martin's face was nearly as white as the snow on which he had fallen, and a thin trickle of blood had spilled from the corner of his mouth. Meredith was unaware of the steady stream of tears that fell from her eyes until they froze on her cheeks; frantically she brushed them away, barely feeling the pain as a more immediate pain ripped through her heart – _Martin was lying still as a corpse, and she couldn't feel his breath on her cheek…_

She didn't want to believe it. _Couldn't_ believe it. He was her heart, her life, her centre; her was her other half. He completed her! He couldn't be dead!

Desolation far keener than a knife cut her heart in two and then tore it to shreds and she screamed Martin's name over and over again, pressing herself against his body in a vain effort to keep him warm – the heat was leaving him so quickly…

" _Accept his death, mortal woman, for yours will be next."_

" _NO!" _Meredith howled with all her strength, frozen tears pouring down her face.

" _You took him from me!"_

She struggled to her feet and with a savage wrench she pulled the snow globe off her palm; she felt the skin ripping, felt hot blood pouring down her wrist and up her arm. The heat almost seemed to invigorate her, to fan the growing flames of her rage, her anger, her pain…

With a deliberate motion she smeared her own blood down first one cheek and then the other to imitate war paint. She was going to war against the Spirit of Winter, the killer of her heart, and she was determined to win!

The first blast of frozen air knocked her clean off her feet; she was prepared for this, though, and sprang back upright. The force of her anger sustained her, forcing her back on to her feet. Raw heat surged through her body like a burning flood, warming every single part of her body. Her lover was dead, and someone would pay…

She was more than prepared for the second blast of wind. It knocked in to her almost like a physical blow but she stood firm against it; her hair whipped out fiercely behind her and anyone watching would have seen a trail of sparks dripping from the curly strands. She was awash with power, stoked by the flames of her rage.

Winter's icy fingers gripped the land; snow-blanketed darkness reigned supreme.

It was time for Meredith to shine.

The third blow came howling down towards her, twice as strong as either of the previous two. Her bloodied hand shot upwards, palm outwards, her entire focus and will on stopping the howling gale that blew down towards her.

The wind hit her outstretched hand…and stopped.

" _Where do you get such power to defy me, mortal woman?"_ the screeching, inhuman voice shrieked.

Rage coursed hotly through her veins as she fought against the debilitating effects of that awful voice. The snow still came down in swirling sheets but when it touched her, it melted and then evaporated in seconds. She was burning up as she let anger consume her.

" Show yourself to me!" she howled, pain still sharp in her mind. " Show me your face!"

" _I have no physical being. I am an entity. I am the essence of the thing, not the thing itself."_

Another gale roared towards her, trying to sweep her off her feet and bury her in suffocating snow. But she would not allow it! _Could_ not allow it!

Magic used by witches and wizards boiled down to three things – intention, power, and focus. Power was an inherent ability of the user; intention could be honed and sharpened by the situation. Focus, however, was something that had to be learned and mastered. Verbal spells were a focus, as was the specific way to wave a wand…or play an instrument.

Meredith had blocked out everything now except her intense desire to send the Spirit of Winter packing back in to her snow globe. It was wrong that such ancient magic could be released, and released by a mortal at that!

She would drive Winter back in to its snow globe, or die trying. Her fingers were no longer frozen – the rage that ran hotly through her allowed all her limbs to move freely. She reached down to her pocket where she'd put both her wand and her whistle. Most witches would have taken out their wands…but her fingers closed around her whistle instead. She pulled it out and closed her lips tightly around the mouthpiece as tears continued to trickle down her cheeks; unfrozen now, they poured unhindered.

The memory of Martin's still, frozen body was fresh in her mind as she blew the first notes. She wanted the Spirit to feel her desolation and pain; she wanted it to understand what had been taken from her. She played no scored tune, no specific piece – her will and her own growing power forced the music in to a specific shape, and the whistle was her focus.

" _You have your own old magic, mortal woman,"_ the voice sounded again. _" But it will not work on me. The pain of your loss does not affect me, for I am frozen and cold. I am the lonely death."_

But Meredith's will was intensifying with every passing second; she felt invigorated and renewed. Every cell in her body almost seemed to zing as fresh power coursed through her, fuelled by her rage and her loss. Winter would pay.

Again she played, but the notes this time were dominating and controlling. She played to still the howling storm, to stop the snow blowing…Winter fought her with every step. It was ancient and cunning, but Meredith's power was fresh and edged with raw pain. It cut like a knife, forcing the very fabric of nature to her will. More gales pounded at her body but she held on, grimly forcing power down through her whistle and out in to the world, pushing at her enemy. Winter tried to freeze the breath in her body, to stop the constant stream of notes that threatened her grip on the land.

The battle of wills raged on for a timeless interval. Meredith pushed and forced, driving her emotions in to the fight, forcing Winter in to a smaller and smaller sphere of influence. She was only dimly aware of the storm as it shrank; the wind and snow was condensed in to an increasingly shrinking ball. She didn't notice it withdrawing from the sky, her focus was so great – the grey-white gave way to the deep, clear blue of a late summer's day.

Winter's own voice was screaming in rage and pain as it was forced to comply. Only once in aeons had it been forced in this way – when another mortal had forced it in to the globe in which it had been imprisoned, and it wouldn't let that happen again!

But the Spirit of Winter was loosing the fight against Meredith's unleashed rage; human passions and emotions battered against it, driving it back, pushing it towards the globe of its prison. It screamed again in a high inhuman voice, fighting all the time, but Meredith played on. The whistle was a weapon, the notes her blows; her fingers flew over the holes faster than an even the most skilled of musicians could manage.

With one last fierce push Meredith forced the Spirit back in to its snow globe and forced the hole in the glass to knit seamlessly together.

The Spirit of Winter was contained once more.

Meredith's body dropped like a stone, the whistle clenched in her fingers as the extra power left her and she lost consciousness.


	30. Chapter 30

**CHAPTER SEVEN**

_So the world goes round and round_

_With all you ever knew_

_Imagine sky high above_

_In Caribbean blue_

_If every man says all he can_

_If every man is true_

_Do I believe the sky above_

_Is Caribbean blue_

_If all you told was turned to gold_

_If all you dreamed was new_

_Imagine sky high above_

_In Caribbean blue_

– _Caribbean Blue, by Enya_

There was softness around her.

Softness under her head, softness beneath her stiff, sore body, and softness surrounding her. She made a faint pained noise in the back of her throat and opened her eyes.

Meredith was lying in her bed. The softness underneath her was the mattress and her pillow, and a light blanket had been wrapped around her. The curtains were wide open and sunlight streamed in through the open window. A faint breeze was tugging playfully at the net curtain, and she was aware that her damaged hand was bandaged.

" Meredith, my darling girl, you're awake," came a familiar voice from beside her. A large, warm hand enveloped her own and another hand gently touched her face.

She willed her eyes to focus and moved her head slightly to one side. A familiar face was looking down on her; short blonde hair, brown eyes swimming with tears, and a worn face with many laughter lines.

She squeezed her eyes shut against the sudden tears that prickled them. A huge lump had formed in her throat and she could hardly speak through it.

" You're – you're dead," she whispered eventually, turning her face away. When she opened her eyes the tears were released, pouring down her cheeks to soak her pillow.

" I s-saw you die…" Her voice ended on a hoarse note.

Martin Grimwood sat down on the bed beside her and hauled her upright, pulling her in to his arms. He held her more tightly than he ever had before and she responded, burying her face in to his warm chest, inhaling his so-familiar scent. Her tears came thick and fast and had quickly soaked his t-shirt; she felt his own tears drip in to her curly hair.

" I didn't die," he replied hoarsely after an eternity. " That – that blast knocked me back. I was unconscious."

" But I couldn't feel your breath," she muttered against his chest. She would never let him go again…

" The Healers said I stopped breathing for a while, from the force of the blow…oh Meredith, you've no idea how much I love you! Do you know what you managed to do yesterday?"

She smiled shyly to herself. " I lost my temper," she replied. " I thought you were dead. I never want to feel that way again."

" You defeated ancient magic, girl. You drove away the Spirit of Winter." There was an awed tone to his voice and she looked up in to his face.

" I thought it had killed you. I – I couldn't go on if you…died," she said.

He kissed her slowly and tenderly and they both gasped when they parted. Sweet longing coursed through both of them and they kissed again, reaffirming their bond.

Her stomach growled, and they both laughed.

" Come on, my darling girl, let's get you up and dressed so you can see exactly what you've done."

She was dressed in a few minutes, although Martin had to help her; her body still felt very stiff and sore. She wore her light summer clothes again after taking one look outside the window – the sky was the same deep shade of blue it had been before the mist came down, and there was no trace of snow now. Birds sang in the distance and she saw Perry Conrad wave to her as he walked across the lawn outside, presumably en route to one of his stills or his greenhouses.

" Did I dream all this?" she asked wonderingly.

" Not a bit of it," Martin replied from behind her.

Meredith wanted to Apparate down to her kitchen but Martin stopped her.

" The Healers told me that you wouldn't be able to perform any magic for a week at least," he told her. " You're all burned out. Your fight with that – that Spirit – it took all the power out of you. You're tapped dry."

She made a face at him and asked him to escort her downstairs instead.

When she got downstairs, however, she wished she'd stayed in her room – the mansion seemed to be filled with people. Her staff had returned from their breaks and were all excitedly trying to ask her questions about what had happened; tall men and strong looking women in Auror's robes were trying to keep things in order, and there were at least a dozen reporters pressing against the throng. She recognised the immaculately blonde head of Rita Skeeter and made a face.

" I'm going back to bed if all these people don't get out of my house _right now_," she hissed.

Martin was quick to take charge. Working together with Liam and Daire – who were giving her admiring looks whenever they could – and the group of Aurors, they threw the reporters out and made sure the other members of Meredith's staff went back to their own buildings.

When the Entrance Hall was cleared of everyone except Aurors and the Grindylows, a familiar woman came up to Meredith. It was Hermione Granger, looking tired and worn. There was a grim expression on her face.

Something had been praying on Meredith's mind ever since she woke up, and now that they were in better company she asked Hermione the question that troubled her the most.

" Where's the snow globe?" she asked urgently.

" You don't need to worry about that," Hermione replied. " We've taken it to a…safer location than the one where Morgana found it. It will be looked after."

Meredith was only slightly mollified by this; she took a 'safer location' to mean the Department of Mysteries at the Ministry of Magic Headquarters in London. It would probably be studied and protected by the mysterious Unmentionables, so called because the work they did was so top secret nobody really knew what they did.

" Congratulations," Hermione continued, a word that was at distinct odds to how she looked. " You've done something that'll probably put you up on a par with Harry over there." She nodded towards a tall man with a shock of unruly dark hair and round glasses.

Harry Potter had obviously heard his name and came over to them; Martin's arm snaked protectively around Meredith's waist. Gratefully she leaned against him.

Harry's appearance hadn't changed much since their school days, though he had filled out and grown in to his man's body. His expression was a little less grim than Hermione's – in fact, he flashed her a quick grin when he was sure the other woman wasn't looking.

" She's only annoyed because you managed to upstage her," he whispered.

Hermione jabbed him in the back with her wand. " I heard that, Mr Ego," she snapped. Turning her eyes back on Meredith she gave her a forced smile.

" Morgana Montague is still at large," she told her. " _That's_ why I'm annoyed. She gave us the slip. What happened?"

Meredith beckoned them in to her kitchen, glad that it was so large – there were at least a dozen Aurors here, including Hermione and Harry, but there was room for them all to sit around the enormous table. She went over to the kettle and moved as if to fill it with water, but Martin waved her in to a seat and started off the brew himself.

" So, what happened?" Hermione asked again when they were all sat down with tea or coffee. Martin, Liam and Daire, she noticed, were drinking what looked suspiciously like vodka or gin.

" It all feels like a dream now," Meredith said eventually. All the Aurors were listening to her intently, so she tried her best to remember exactly what had happened.

" Morgana only came here to gloat about what she'd done, and to provoke me in to trying to stop her. Apparently she's always had a grudge against me."

" Why?" Hermione asked.

Meredith shook her head – she wasn't going to tell this well-spoken young woman about any of her family history if she could help it.

" Family reasons," was all she said. " She wanted me to go after her and freeze to death. She Apparated out, you Apparated in and then went again; Martin and I went after her. How did you loose her?"

" She'd put some sort of spell on her trail to hide it from us," Hermione replied sourly. " Seemingly _you_ were the only person she wanted to follow her."

Meredith bit her lip to stop herself from grinning.

" When we found her she was very weak – the Spirit of Winter was draining all the life from her," Meredith continued. " I don't know if she's dead or alive, now. She looked half dead when we found her – but now that the Spirit isn't draining her life force, perhaps she'll recover."

" Don't worry," Harry interrupted. " We'll find her. And when we do, she's going straight to Azkaban."

Meredith's eyes lost their focus as she remembered what had happened, and when she spoke next her voice was flat and emotionless.

" The Spirit killed Martin. Or at least, I thought it had killed Martin. I lost my temper and forced it back in to its globe."

" But _how_?" Hermione asked, and Meredith was reminded that the other woman was as hungry for knowledge as she herself was. They were very similar in that respect.

Martin took up the tale now. " She used one very old form of magic to counteract another," he told the Auror. " Music. You know music is another way to focus yourself, like a wand?"

Hermione nodded, a keen look on her face now. " Yes, I know a little about magical music theory – obviously it's not taught in schools but you don't get to stay being an Auror for seven years without picking up a few things here and there."

" Meredith's been a keen Irish Whistle player since her sixth year-"

" It was the best way to focus myself," Meredith broke in, giving Martin a brief apologetic smile. " I needed a way to express my – well, my rage and pain. If you've ever lost someone you truly loved you'd know how I felt, Hermione. And I've always had a temper-"

" I didn't know that," she replied.

Meredith grinned. " I hid it very well in school, and only vented it when nobody else could see. But I used it to force the Spirit of Winter back in to its globe, and then I sealed it in."

" Truly remarkable," Hermione conceded only a little grudgingly. She swallowed.

" Look, if you ever want to come and work for the Ministry as an Auror-"

Meredith smiled at her, knowing what it had cost her old rival to give her that offer.

" Thank you, Hermione, but I'm afraid I'll have to turn you down." Hermione struggled not to look pleased. " I've got far too much work to do here at my Research Centre – just a few weeks ago I had no practical experience of using music in magic, and now…" She had to laugh. Her worldview had changed so far it was almost unrecognisable to her. New doors had opened up, new avenues for exploration.

Meredith Corrigan was still alive. She had battled one of nature's most primeval forces (besides Wizard's Star Vodka) and she had survived. Her lover was whole and healthy beside her, and The Corrigan Centre for Magical Research had a long, bright and profitable future ahead of it.

Meredith couldn't help but grin.

Life was good.

**THE END**


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